Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military Private
by Wesker888
Summary: COMPLETE! Follow the events of FullMetal viewed through the eyes of a private in the army. read and review. rated K for language, and some violent, very few, situations.
1. Entry 1

**Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military**

Hi everyone!

Now, first off: I don't own Full Metal Alchemist, the Elrics, the homunculi, the chimerasor any military personel/civilians from the anime. I do own Scott Rodyle, his squad, and maybe some of the plot.

Second, I've only seen a few episodes, mainly the later ones, so if I'm waaaaaaaaay off on a lot of this... don't kill me.

Now, here you go.

Entry 1:

OK, this was a really bad idea. Awful. Hell, maybe even fatal.

It's bad enough that, out of every other thing I could have done with my life, I be an idiot and join Grand Central Army. But on top of that, now I have to keep a journal on my time?

Great. Just great.

Or as my little brother would say, terrific.

Well, huh, better get started.

My name is Private Scott Rodyle. I'm eighteen years old and just outta high school. I'm from Risembool, this little town out to the south. I was a track runner at high school and would've had a scholarship to some big collage, but for some reason completely oblivious to me, I joined the army to "see the sights".

I'm an idiot. Might as well have a sign glued to my head that says so.

I got in five days ago. Which means I've still got… oh, about five years left? Five whole years.

God help me.

My squad buddies all seem to be OK. They're all freakin' weird, in their own way, but I like them.

My squad leader is this short, squat guy with peach hair, a long nose, and slits for eyes. They all call him Fish. I was sure their was a story behind it, but turns out, it's his last name. He seems to know what he's doing, so doesn't hurt to pay attention.

The assistant squad leader's name is Castillo. He's a tall kid with wild red hair but a serious attitude. He doesn't talk much- Don't know why- but he's OK.

Then there's Schmitty, the machine gunner. This short, doughy kid and a great football player. He probably played in school, but I wouldn't know. At first listen, I thought his name was "Smitty." But it's "Schmitty"- with a "sh" sound in it,

Then there's the assistant machine gunner- a big, muscular guy- who answers to Boozer. Mainly because he always drinks- on or off duty. I guess he's seen some pretty tough action out there. Hope I don't become like that.

Gemini is this short, stocky kid that's really into automail. He's from Rush Valley and wants to be an automail mechanic. He's a really friendly guy-just stay away from his favorite topic. You'll be there for weeks.

I'd like to take the time to point out that all of our squad, with the exception of me and three or four others, are Central born and raised. Take Regazzi- a tall, tan guy with broad shoulders and a grin a mile and a half long. He's born and raised in the grand city- and damn proud of it. He wants to be a business manager when he goes home. His skills suck, but his ability to badger people to no extent might actually get him there.

Blake and Waverly are these two kids that almost look like identical twins. They're from Risembool, too- I remember when they unsuccessfully tried to burn the middle school down when they were kids. They never go anywhere without each other- I have never seen them apart. Every patrol, every exercise, every maneuver- always the two of them pared together.

Shadow is this tall, thin man who wears glasses and rarely talks. He's really smart and, like Fish, Castillo, and Boozer, has been in the army a while. He was in collage before joining, but dropped out to fight. I think that's cool- even if he was majoring in alchemy.

Finally, there's Smokey, my best friend here. He's this lean, tall black guy from Lior who wants to be a writer when he gets home. He's always writing- journals, letters, or books. I bet he'll be big- and I'll buy all of his books.

Gotta stop writing now- we're going out on patrol.

Whaddya think? Review!


	2. Entry 2

Chapter Two up.

Once again, I don't own Full Metal Alchemist or any of the people from the actual anime. Just the guys in the squad.

Entry 2:

Jeez, I'm tired. We've been running patrols every freakin' day. True, Regazzi managed to scrounge a few half-tracks for the job. But it's still a bitch- getting up early, putting on a uniform, slinging a rifle on my shoulder, and driving around the city. But, we don't complain.

OK, that's crap right there. We do complain. A lot. Nothing out of the ordinary, though: There's no girls, our packs are too heavy, there's no girls, we're tired and hungry, and, of course- there's no girls.

Even my platoon leader agrees with me on that one. He's this pretty mellow guy with blonde hair and a cigarette always hanging out of his mouth. He's a second lieutenant and his name is Jean Havoc. He's a pretty cool guy- except he's always a whiner when he loses the girls he dates to his best friend, who's also our C.O.

The C.O.'s a tall, stern guy with black hair and a mean look, yet they tell me he's really cool. He's Colonel Roy Mustang and, supposedly, he's one of the best. He fought in Ishbal during that rebellion years ago. Fish, Castillo, Boozer, and Shadow all did too, as did a lot of guys here in Central. Col. Mustang never seems to want to discuss it in front of other people, though, which makes me wonder if he's like Boozer.

The Col. is rarely seen without one of his subordinates-a tall, blonde haired woman, one of the only one's I have ever seen in the military. She's a first lieutenant named Riza Hawkeye. She's sharp, cool, obedient- everything you'd expect from a first lieutenant.

She's a pretty good sniper, too- I used to think that I was a pretty decent shot, but she's put me to shame. Rumor's been going around that she and Col. Mustang are going steady, but from what I've seen, they either don't want to- or don't wanna risk it.

We've got other officers that make up the main staff. They're the guys that follow the Col. and obey everything he says. Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda, Warrant Officer Vato Falman, and Sergeant Major Kain Fuery (OK, he's not really an officer, but he's a radio op., so he's important.). We've also got Major Alex Armstrong. He's probably the strongest guy in the military. He's a lot like Boozer- except he doesn't drink and he's pretty friendly. I don't like going near him, though- kinda creeps me out.

There's also Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes, who's with Central Intelligence. He's this tall guy with black hair, a scruffy beard, and glasses. He was in Ishbal, too- only he had a desk job. Smart bastard.

I must say, for an officer, he's quite the devouted family man. He has a wife and a little daughter who's three now, I think. Most people, when they have a daughter that young, only say how cute she is when someone asks it. He does it everyday- 24 hours, 7 days. He's constantly shoving pictures of her into people's faces. Most people find that crap annoying, but I like him. It show's that he's a family man, and I respect that- you don't see many of those anymore. As long as he stays that way, I'll respect him fully.

One thing about Lt. Col. Hughes, though- the staff meetings he has are _long_. Boring too.

Speaking of which, we've got one now. Gotta go.

Second chapter. Pretty good, huh?


	3. Entry 3

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

I don't own Full Metal- there, I said it. Again.

How many times must one say it before everyone understands?

Entry 3:

I'd just like to point out that, for the most part, alchemy plays a very important role in daily army life. We've got a lot of State Alchemists-that's what they're called, because they work for the state-around, like Maj. Armstrong and Brigadier General Basque Gran. Even Col. Mustang uses alchemy, playing with the fire elements. In fact, he's called the "Flame Alchemist" for that reason.

I never used to think much of it before- hey, as long as it gets the job done, I don't care how it works. But, now that I'm surrounded by all these alchemists, I kinda wonder about it.

I mean, I've always been kinda curious about how it all works. Shadow told me that all you need is a good transillusion circle (Transfusion? Transformation? Hell, I don't know-never heard of them before) and you're in business. State Alchemists have to try out once a year to show that they've still got their skills. I think there's an interview, a written test, and then the actual test on the field.

It's transmutation circle. I just asked. They're these circles that you draw with mainly a piece of chalk. It's got something to do with the "equivalent exchange"-don't bother asking me _what_ the hell that is-, so you've gotta draw a special symbol in it depending on what kinda transmutation you're gonna do. In Col. Mustang's case, he has these white gloves that have the circles on them, allowing him to throw fire at the snap of the fingers.

Can't you just tell that Shadow loves to tell you this stuff? All you have to do is give him a topic and BAM; he's off to the track. Turns out, he's a pretty serious alchemist himself. When I asked him why he didn't go state, he answered that he didn't wanna be an officer. Being a Sate Alchemist automatically gives you the rank of major, and he said he'd rather be enlisted.

Personally, I think he should have stayed in college, but hey, to each his own, right?

So, Lt. Col. Hughes's meeting was boring, as usual. Him talking about this thing and that, taking pauses only to talk of his daughter and how fast she was growing up and how cute she was looking. He did this about- oh, let's say twenty-three times in this meeting _alone_.

One thing about this meeting, though, is that The Fuhrer and his secretary, Col. Juliet Douglas, showed up too. The Fuhrer is a tall man with a ponytail, mustache, and an eye patch over his left eye. Rumors are going around about what happened to his eye, but he seems cool. Really laid back, too- and that's saying something, especially since he's running the country. Col. Douglas is cute, but older than me, which sucks.

She looks really familiar to me, though- I can't put my finger on it, but she reminds me of someone back home….

What was weirder is that after the meeting, they were talking in serious tones afterwards. She seemed to be talking about the Lt. Col….

What the hell's _that_ about?

Review please!


	4. Entry 4

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

Don't own Full Metal- that's all I'm gonna say….

* * *

Entry 4:

I had a weird blast from the past today.

I was sitting out with Smokey and Schmitty by the MG pit, which, because of its size, is the main hangout place for the squad. I was lying on my back, watching the sun, Smokey was writing down a chapter in one of his notebooks, and Schmitty was cleaning the machine gun, which he does, like, ten times a day.

It was one of those days-nice and sunny- that make you feel really laid back and start thinking of ways to pull pranks around the HQ. I may have only been here two weeks, but that's no reason to not make an impression. I swear, the number of pranks me and Smokey have played on the staff- it's a wonder why we haven't been court martialed yet.

Anyway, Lt. Havoc had the platoon go for a baseball game. Because there are like, thirty guys in the platoon, it usually goes for two teams of fifteen men. Me being a track runner, I skipped this. Schmitty was a football player, and Smokey didn't like sports, so we sat this one out as Lt. Havoc led one team and got Lt. Breda to head the other.

So anyway, I'm lying on the ground, when out of nowhere, I hear all this yelling. Sitting up, I see Col. Mustang walking across the compound, arguing with two of the strangest creatures I had ever seen. Didn't take long to realize they were humans. One was a really, really short kid with long blonde hair and an attitude shorter than his height. The other one was tall- well, he must have been, to wear that huge armor. It sounded like he was trying to calm the shorter one down. They soon walked into the HQ and the noises, however loud they had once been, were dead.

There was something familiar about them.

"Who were those guys?" I asked Schmitty, who was giving the barrel a little spit shine.

"You would know. They're from your hometown," he answered, not looking up.

From Risembool? Why didn't I remember them?

Deciding that Schmitty wasn't going to help, I asked Sgt. Maj. Fuery, who was passing by, who those guys were.

"What guys?" he asked.

"The kid the size of an insect and the huge guy in armor," I answered.

"Oh, they're the Elrics. Edward and Alphonse," Fuery answered, before Lt. Hawkeye called him over.

Then I remembered.

Of course. The Elrics. Right, those were those two kids that tried to bring their dead mother back to life using alchemy. That had ended miserably when Al, the younger brother, lost his body and Ed, the elder (though you really couldn't tell by appearance- the kid hates milk, what can I say?) lost his left leg. To save his brother, Ed placed some sort of blood seal on a suit of armor, binding his brother's soul to it, losing his right arm in the process.

That was a good five, six years ago. They left home to try to find a method to restoring their bodies and that was the last I saw of them. Later, I found out from Winry Rockbell, their old friend, that they had joined the army.

Them being 12 and 11 at the time, I didn't believe it.

Just goes to show…

Anyway, I went back to lying down. The Elrics really made me think of home. My mom, my dad, my kid brother- you kinda gotta wonder what they're doing right now. Is Dad at work? Is Mom going back to church? Is my bro missing me?

I wish they'd write soon.

Sound's like Lt. Breda's losing the game. Gotta take a look at that. The Lt.'s a funny guy.

* * *

Chap. 4 up.

And… I'm done.


	5. Entry 5

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

Yep, you guessed it- don't own Full Metal.

And... we're on.

* * *

Entry 5:

Christ, I've got blisters on my feet like you wouldn't believe. Col. Mustang took away our half-tracks and had us go on a fifteen mile hike. I swear, after days like this, I'll never complain on three-mile track runs through the town again.

Anyways, I ran into Ed at the bakery today. I had just walked in for a thing of milk for the squad when I saw him getting bread. He turned and saw me staring at him.

"Oh, hi, Ed…" I said, kinda awkward.

"Um… hi? Do I know you?" he asked.

"Yeah, uh, you might not remember me. My dad's Tony Rodyle, he runs the drug store back in Risembool," I said.

He looked at me for a second; I guess trying to figure out if I was crazy or being truthful. Finally, he put on a smile.

"Oh right, Scotty. It's been a while."

Scotty's my old nickname from back home. The guys on the team always called me that. So did the family, the teachers, family friends, neighbors- hell, _everyone_.

Come to think of it, the guys in my squad call me that too….

To hell with it. Anyway-

So, we shook hands and then we sat down. And then, slowly, but gradually, we talked.

He told me about the night where the transmutation of his mother had gone wrong. He showed me the metal arm to prove it. Jesus, no wonder they call him "Full Metal."

I told him about basic- about the long days, short nights, crap food (OK, I still get that. Every single day), sixteen hours of top physical tests and trials- the brutality of it all. I told him how I almost joined Special Ops., but seeing as how I'm dead clumsy in the middle of the night, I decided to just be a grunt.

I went on to ask him why he joined the army and he admitted he just wanted to become a State Alchemist so he could use the army's research source for looking up methods to restoring his and Al's bodies. One thing he mentioned was the Philosopher's Stone. Some legendary stone that has supposedly unlimited power supply. Ed seemed hell-bent on finding that thing, no matter the cost.

Godspeed.

Nearing the end of our conversation, I saw Gemini walking to the bakery. In horror, I realized that he would only need one look at the metal arm for neither of us to have a peaceful moment for the rest of the week.

"If you wanna continue your search with your sanity still intact, I suggest you go out the back door," I said to him.

He looked out the window at the approaching Gemini and before I could say another word, he was already two blocks down and four blocks over.

I myself left out the front, greeting Gemini as I passed. I believe that Ed never knew just how close he was to losing his mind if he had stayed in there.

When I got back to the barracks, I asked Shadow about the Philosopher's Stone. Because he's a huge expert on that kinda crap, I was kinda surprised when he told me that, military wise, it was a really hush-hush subject. Apparently, they used to work on that kinda thing in the 5th Laboratory, which is this old abandoned facility that was shut down for some odd reason. Library might help- but I haven't been in one of those since that time where the track team snuck into the one back home and had a drinking party after a really tough meet that we won. I can't remember all that we did that night-and I'm not too sure that I _want _to…

And then, Shadow told me some stories. Weird ones, too. And they weren't just latrine stories- those get proven false 90 of the time. But these stories- I don't know _what _the hell they were. Stories of people who got too close to finding out the truth on the Stone and suddenly dying or dropping off the face of the Earth. Of entire villages just… disappearing, without a freakin' trace.

Not stories you wanna tell little kids.

I thought of Ed. Was he walking into a deathtrap?

God, I hope not…

* * *

That's all for now.

Oh yeah, people have been saying that I need to add some action in this story.

Never fear. The Lab 5 battle is coming up soon.

Although a majority of it probably never happened, it doesn't screw up the main events much, so… yeah.

Buh-bye.


	6. Entry 6

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

Don't own FMA- I'd like to own at least the military or Tucker, or even Greed as I have never seen any of his episodes. But, I don't.

Whatever.

Entry 6:

Lt. Col. Hughes has us working on office detail today. Since Col. Mustang and the rest of the staff are over at Eastern HQ for a while (due to some screwball officer messing up), Lt. Col. Hughes is our current C.O. Nothing wrong with that- he's a pretty laid back guy. Makes it easier to get away with stuff this way.

I guess someone higher-up must've realized too, 'cause now the Lt. Col. wants us working on files, cabinets, and- the highest priority on the list- coffee. He says it'll help his staff on their jobs. It may be just me, but they seem to be doing just dandy by themselves.

Three hours in, you could swear that the freakin' clock was going backwards. Smokey looked at me and nodded. Time foe Operation: Party- Time.

We decided to place in a call for Lt. Col. Hughes by his daughter- only not really. I, being the genius that I am, would pose as operator and tell him to hold, while Smokey would sneak into the kitchen, grab a lot of beers, and we would all have a little party.

I snuck out to a near-by phone booth and rang up Lt. Col. Hughes's office. With the classic luck of the Risemboolans, he picked it up.

"Mr. Hughes?" I asked, making an operator's voice appear out of nowhere (I swear to God I'm awesome with that kinda stuff).

"Yes?" he asked, completely oblivious. I almost burst out laughing, but bit my cheek.

"There's a call coming in to you from your wife and daughter. Please hold," the fake operator (Me) said. Then, placing the phone down, I left the booth as I could hear him gleefully squealing in happiness. Shmuck.

By the time I got back, Smokey had already gone for the beers and was passing them all out. There was enough for all thirty guys in the platoon so everyone got at least two or three beers. Boozer, being who he was, got ten. We soon had a nice little office party going.

Taking a sip of my second beer, I started examining pictures on the wall. There sure were a lot. We had a lot of pics with Lt. Col. Hughes and Col. Mustang, some with Maj. Armstrong, some of the Col. with Lt. Hawkeye, some with Lt. Havoc or the rest of the staff. There were also some of the Fuhrer and Col. Douglas, and-of course- an entire wall full of pictures of the Lt. Col. with his beloved family, wife and daughter.

That put a smile on my face. However, it got wiped off when I saw a picture of someone I didn't recognize- a tall, skinny man with a black ponytail and a sinister smile. One of his hands was outstretched and I saw a transmutation circle etched into his palm.

I had never seen him around, so I asked Castillo who he was.

He told me the man was Maj. Zolf Kimblee or the "Crimson Alchemist" as they called him. He was one of the many State Alchemists that fought in Ishbal, and possibly the most effective one, as he could use his alchemy to transform the human structure into something unbalanced- a very affective bomb. However, the maniac was finally locked up when he blew up a superior officer. He's in a prison over near the Lab 5 now- rotting, for all it's worth.

As the party started getting good, the door burst open and Lt. Col. Hughes burst open. If a man could murder by staring evilly at someone, he just killed off an entire platoon. We were all too stunned to move. I wasn't too concerned with getting caught, though- I knew it was all for one around here.

"WHO THE HELL IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS!" he yelled.

Thirty pairs of hands instantly pointed at me and Smokey.

Traitors.

Yup, that's all for now.


	7. Entry 7

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

Yup, yet again, FMA does not belong to me.

* * *

Entry 7:

Lt. Col. Hughes took me and Smokey to the library and told us to get comfortable. He said all this crap about how it was a disgrace to have done that and he hoped it would never go before a court martial, yet he wouldn't blame it if it did.

Makes it sound like he had never done it to anyone before.

So, as punishment, Lt. Col. Hughes wants us to spend the next thirty- six hours researching and gathering info about some artificial human called "homunculi". He didn't want to see us outside of this library and- just to make sure that we wouldn't leave- he would have guards outside to make sure we wouldn't escape.

And just when I thought there was a loophole, he said they would be all around the building and that all secret passages had been boarded up years ago.

He wished us good luck and left, the door locking shut behind us.

Me and Smokey looked at each other.

What the hell were homunculi?

We looked at the seven large mountains of books, each containing about three thousand books. We gulped.

"Jesus," I said.

"Hey, man, you know an easier way of doin' this, right?" Smokey asked.

We looked at each other again. I grinned.

"Sheska," we both said.

Sheska was the old librarian, but she was fired for bringing too many books home with her. She still spends the majority of her time here- even though I think she's supposed to be banned. She's kinda cute- kinda short, with short brown hair and glasses. Not my type, but given the choice? Why not?

So I went over to her and asked her- super suave- if there were any books about homunculi. Before I knew it, she carried two large stacks of books, one in each hand, and put them on the table. How she managed to carry one in each hand was a mystery, how she never dropped them was an even bigger one, as both stacks brushed against the ceiling. She also told us that there were old records and all this other crap in the cabinets and if we needed any more help that we should go see her. Then she went back to where she had been sitting before and kept on reading as if nothing had ever happened.

Hard to believe that all that happened faster than it took to write that whole paragraph.

So, we got to work. It's hard to believe, but with the twelve hours of study and the fifteen hours of sleeping, eating, and playing card, we actually went twenty- seven hours and still made a pretty lengthy report. Or rather Smokey did- I just read the crap out to him.

It turns out that homunculi are artificially generated beings that retain human physical forms and mental abilities, but have no soul. They are created when someone fails a human transmutation. They at first are hideous monsters that are a mangle of bone and flesh. However, when given incomplete versions of the Philosopher's Stone, they begin to take on human shape and stature. At some length, they can eventually become near immortal- you could blow the top half of a homunculus off and it'll just regrow itself. They have this mark called the Ouroborus tattoo- a winged serpent that is eating its own tail- that's supposedly representing the life and death cycle the homunculus goes through.

There was a hell of a lot more to it than that, but if I wrote it all, then this journal would be completely filled up.

After it was done, we left the library- convincing the guard that we were done and showing them the report- we went on our way to Lt. Col. Hughes' office. Smokey gave me his half, and then told me he was going to go catch forty winks and said he would meet me back at the barracks. So I went alone to the C.O.'s office.

I put our reports on the table and told Lt. Col. Hughes that we had finished. He glanced through it real quick, then told me he would look more into it, and dismissed me.

"Lt. Col., sir?" I said.

"Yes?" he asked wearily.

"Why'd you have us look this shi- stuff up?" I asked.

He smirked at me. "You never know," was all I got out of him, so I just saluted and left.

Walking back to the barracks, I started thinking. The Philosopher's Stone. This was the second time I had come across it, and I still didn't fully know what the hell it was- the research hadn't really gotten into it. The homunculi used incomplete ones to get immortal, or near it- what happened when (and if) they got the real thing? Would we be royally screwed?

I just now remembered something- Ed and Al had failed a human transmutation. Did that mean…

Aw, crap.

* * *

Just a little note- some may have wondered why we don't really get into the show much here.

This isn't really looking too much into Ed's story- it's basically looking at the whole story in general. I guarantee that the more we continue, the more we'll get into the actual storyline. Right now, this is it.

…I'm really just explaining things to you as well as myself. So… yeah.


	8. Entry 8

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

* * *

Don't own Full Metal.

And-go.

Entry 8:

Loafed around with the squad today. I mean, I know we shouldn't have- some scarred guy's been going around killing off State Alchemists. He got Brig. Gen. Gran last week and would've gotten Ed if Maj. Armstrong hadn't have stepped in and saved the day.

But since we weren't State Alchemists and personally didn't give a rat's ass about it (Except maybe Shadow), we think we're all safe.

Fish checked my gear for no apparent reason, but I guess it was OK, because he just nodded and walked over to sit with Castillo. It's kinda funny- the guy looks like he's seventy years old, yet I don't even think he's thirty yet. It's kinda common around here- guys joined Ishbal when they were only thirteen. Take Col. Mustang- he's only twenty- eight. Lt. Col. Hughes is just as young, but since he's got a wife and kid, you'd think he was an old man.

Shadow's the oldest guy in the squad- he's thirty- two. As I said before, he went to college and was majoring in Advanced Alchemy, but when Ishbal broke out, he joined up and has been here ever since- though he keeps up on his studies. He was eighteen when he joined up- fourteen years of his life wasted in the army. He doesn't seem to regret it, though, so I don't say anything.

Regazzi's been saying how his business managing skills have gotten better. I'll believe that when I see it. He's been managing Boozer at the moment, because the big guys' going for the wrestling competition next week. Surprisingly, it seems to be working. The little imp just won't quit.

Boozer's a big guy- he weighs over three hundred pounds. But it is without a doubt all muscle- one night, while we were all drinking, we got into a fight with some security personnel and before we know it, Boozer's fists- which are as big as croquet mallets- started swinging. Each time they fell, so did a soldier. Soon the street was littered with unconscious guys. He kept us busy- we kept dragging the bodies out of the street, so they wouldn't get run over by a passing car.

He is really mean, though- not much of a talker. I don't know, it's either the constant drinking, or the being in the army too long and not trusting new guys, but he doesn't talk to me at all. I've only been in the army a month, but from what I've heard, unless you see combat, you're a rookie- until you're six months in, anyway.

Schmitty was cleaning the gun, as usual. He does it because you never know when you might need it and it's always gotta be clean. Otherwise, the barrels get sensitive and they won't work properly. He knows his stuff, but he really hasn't been in the army that long- eight months, give or take. He says he was a mechanic before he joined up- hence why he's so doughy. He hopes he loses a little weight from all this. I dunno- after eight months and still nothing?

Gemini is the complete opposite- he's a real outgoing kid, probably the friendliest out of all of the guys. I don't think I've ever seen him get mad at a single thing. He's always building stuff- always with these automail parts his dad sends him. He's gonna help his dad out when he gets home and is gonna make them both famous.

I don't really like Castillo all that much- he's kinda strict, a by- the-book kinda guy. Fish is pretty easy going, but not Castillo. They've been together since before Ishbal, so they've developed what's called a "long-term friendship" around here. You'd think, by the wild red hair, that he'd be a cool guy. But he's a jerk- Mr. High and Mighty.

Next to me and Smokey, Blake and Waverly are the biggest pranksters around. They once trapped Col. Mustang and Lt. Hawkeye in a closet in their office. It went well until the Lt. blew the door away, but Blake and Waverly were far away by then. Both being from Risembool like me, it's with those two that I really talk about home with- we know everyone there, it being a small town and all. I remember when they did the same "locked closet" trick with Ed and Winry, but Ed did some alchemy on it and that time, my two buddies had not been fortunate enough to run away.

Smokey and I share pretty much everything- we're best friends. I keep telling him that when he gets home, I'll buy all his books. He's really good, and since I'm a fast but thorough reader, I get to enjoy his stuff first hand. Right now, he's writing a story about a boy who fights in the war but keeps remembering his failed relationship with his one true love. It's really good. He says he's gonna get married when he gets home and showed me the ring. I bet he'll do fine.

As for me, my nineteenth birthday was yesterday. I spent the morning cleaning out Lt. Col. Hughes' office- I'm still on probation. Pretty crappy morning.

But when I got back, I found a gigantic surprise- the whole platoon was gathered in my squad's barracks room, with streamers, balloons, and a giant-ass cake. I had a couple of gifts, the best of which was a hat from Blake and Waverly saying "Risembool Pride". I'm wearing it right now, as a matter of fact.

I found out the hard way how Shadow got his nickname. One night, I was out on outpost (or OP, as we call it), and all of a sudden, there he was, about a foot away from me.

Scared the crap outta me, I must say.

Dinner time. I'm gone.

* * *

Chapter notes:

This chap was just getting more in-depth about the guys on the squad. Don't get used to them, though- Lab 5 battle is only two entries away.

In regards to Smokey's book- I actually am writing a story about that. No, I didn't get it from Green Day's "Wake me up When September Ends" video, I came up with that loooooooooooong before that video came out.

I think that's it. Reviews would be cool.


	9. Entry 9

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

FMA don't belong to me.

Again, that's all I gotta say…

* * *

Entry 9:

That scarred guy's been wreaking a lot of havoc around the city these past couple of weeks. He's been doing all this alchemy crap to kill off our State Alchemists. It's all due to his arm, which I'm guessing has some sort of transmutation array on it. Since he has no real name, Lt. Col. Hughes is just calling him "Scar" for now.

It's not even safe for Ed to travel around without some kind of escort. Lt. Maria Ross and Sgt. Denny Bloch have been assigned that position.

Good luck with that.

Right now, Ed and Al are hot on the trail of the Philosopher's Stone. They've recently been working on notes provided by a Dr. Tim Marcoh. He was the former "Crystal Alchemist" and fought in Ishbal, but went AWOL and no one's heard of him since. Now, apparently, he's in hiding from the military under Col. Douglas.

Anyway, all of Marcoh's research was mostly destroyed, except for a few notes which Ed used. Now he's checking out the abandoned Lab 5. Mind, he's not supposed to be down there- Lt. Ross told him not to. But we all know Ed by now.

In squad news, I fired my weapon for the first real time today- not some training run or whatever. We were out on a hike and everything was going fine until I thought I saw something move. Something big and hairy. Then whatever it was leapt out at Gemini and I fired a whole ten-round clip- that's ten bolt-actioned rounds – into it. It scared the other guys so that _they_ all started shooting, so what was a lovely nature hike turned into a shooting match. The replacement platoon leader- in charge until Lt. Havoc gets back- was screaming, "HOLD YOUR FREAKIN' FIRE" about a good ten times before we all stopped.

Boozer grabbed my pack and threw me backwards, yelling and swearing about replacements that got everybody killed. Called me a bunch of different names that I would never want my mother to hear. And _Gemini_ was pissed off too, because I fired so close to him. Fish and Castillo started yelling at me. I said sorry, but something had moved.

The LT was coming over to do his own yelling, when all of a sudden, Blake said, "Oh my God, look at that."

Gemini turned around and went all pale. This huge ass bear was standing no more than five feet away. It was standing on its hind legs- a sign that you better just say your prayers. I must have hit it a few times, because it had these blood stains on its body. Right now, it looked _pissed_.

We all just stood still for a moment. Then Boozer took out his knife, and, screaming for all it was worth, ran over and tackled the bear. They struggled on the ground for a good seven minutes, with _anyone's _guess as to who the victor is. Finally, Boozer jammed his knife into the bear's skull. We all just stood there, staring at the biggest, ugliest, _deadest_ bear we had ever seen.

"Looks like Scotty was on the job after all!" said Waverly, all cheerful.

Gemini looked sick. I felt it.

"Alright, enough staring. Move out!" the LT said.

We humped back to the barracks and went to our beds. The patrol had ended all calmly, but I was freaked out for the rest of the day.

I'll bet Gemini was, too.

* * *

Well, that's it. Review. 


	10. Entry 10

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

Don't own FMA.

Own the squad, which isn't even a definite thing anymore, as there won't be much of one left after Entry 12.

And-go.

* * *

Entry 10:

It's 1:15 in the morning, and we're going into battle.

The Elrics haven't come out of Lab 5 yet, and now we're hearing of chimeras- a fused being between human and animal that were being worked on down there- going amok down there. Also believed that two guys in armor are down there and so is Scar.

And- even though it isn't certain yet- we may even be fighting homunculi.

Jesus, that's a scary thought right there.

We're moving out in an hour. Two companies- one (mine) will round up the chimeras and get the Beast Man chimeras before they reach the weapons storage room. Another one, with The Fuhrer personally leading this, will go find Ed. With him are Lt. Col. Hughes, Maj. Armstrong, Lt. Ross, and Sgt. Bloch.

We've got a little bit of everything- rifles, machine guns, ammo, grenades, bazookas, Gatling Guns (for the heavier guys), even a knife or two. But it doesn't feel like a training op this time. It feels like combat. We're men with weapons, not boys with toys. Nervous men, but we're men. We're ready.

I hope.

I wrote three letters to my family. Just in case.

I got a bad feeling about this…

* * *

Short, I know, but the next couple of entries will be longer.

Stay tuned- and review.


	11. Entry 11

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

Own Full Metal Alchemist, I do not.

Enter the story, we shall.

(Heh-heh. I've always wanted to do that )

The following entries…probably never happened, yet they are pretty sad and a little violent.

That's all.

* * *

Entry 11:

For the first time, I realize that that this isn't a game.

I could get killed here.

It's two nights later, and I'm still having problems sleeping. Every time I close my eyes, even just to blink, I remember the battle- the bullets, the explosions, that alchemist devil, and- the worse thing possible and the thing I hear the most- the screams of my comrades.

Maybe I should re-cap:

My platoon was the first one in through the back way, the replacement LT leading. Lt. Col. Hughes promised us that if we ran into any trouble, backup would follow. We followed the LT into the labs, the sound of vehicles and wind dying away.

It was a long, winding trail. We all felt it-fear. This guy that came in a week ago was clucking his tongue so much that it really pissed me off. So I gave him some gum, hoping it would calm him down. Whatever made me think that deserved to be taken out of my brain and smashed on the ground. The chewing was about to drive me up a freaking wall.

There was a three way intersection about two miles into the lab. The LT told third squad to head up the middle, while first headed left and we went right. Fish took us on our sweep through a mini-lab that I'm guessing was tissue research. We didn't find anything- didn't really break my heart- so we turned around and was going to call it a job done.

But then the third squad radioed in, saying they were in trouble. Guess it was serious, because half their guys were wounded, and their machine-gunner was killed. It wasn't a surprise when Fish volunteered our squad to go back for them. We double timed it to the labs where the other squad was. I was out front, I turned the corner to the part of the intersection where the squad was, and-

It was like we had stepped into a freaking hornets nest. Gunfire and explosions were all over the hallway. It was hard to tell whether we had walked into a battle zone, or Shadow had screwed up on an alchemy practical exam.

I got behind a part of the wall that had been all blown to hell, Smokey right behind me. Then I saw the chimeras- the beast man kinds. They're the ones that are actually freakin' human. And they had gotten the weapons dump.

I started firing into the smoke, but with it all hazy, and with a bolt-actioned rifle, it's kinda hard to see if you actually hit anyone with it. I thought I at least got one- I heard yelling after I fired my shot- but with all the shooting going on, I don't know if it was mine, ours, theirs, or a flock of damn birds.

"RODYLE! GET THE HELL UP HERE!" I heard Boozer calling my name. He was up ahead, waving for me to come join him.

Taking a quick breath, I started hauling some serious ass just as a grenade whizzed down and landed right at my feet. I jumped into the air and was right over it as it blew. It threw me into the wall, but somehow, I was completely unhurt. How the hell do you like _that_ luck?

Boozer was up front, signaling for me to follow. I don't know what the hell he was up to, nor did I care. At that moment, I was following someone who had been in the army for a good fourteen years; someone who knew the way of the land, who had seen more battles then I could imagine, so he would know where to go, what to do-

He suddenly went down with a giant yelp. Then he started firing off a string of oaths that my granddad would call "champions cussing". In short, he cursed everyone from his mother to God. Then he got up, slowly, and started making his way forward. He made it about four more steps before going down, shot again.

All that happened in a matter of seconds. The guy swears fast, what can I say? I ran over to him and checked him out. He was hit in the leg above the knee and there was a bullet hole in his arm, too. He was swearing like mad and trying to get back up. I started trying to bandage the wounds and yelled at him to stay down, so he wouldn't get _me_ shot too.

His response was to slug me in the face. Let me say, for a wounded guy, he packs a _punch_. Got me right in the mouth.

"RODYLE! GET BOOZER THE HELL OUT OF THERE!" Fish yelled. Grenades were going off all over the place. It was then that I noticed that first squad had showed up, and were already dragging them out.

I picked Boozer up and lifted him over my shoulder-no easy task, as he's about two hundred pounds heavier than me- and started for the exit. He tried to slug me again, but he missed. His hat fell off, but I didn't bend and get it, because I was carrying both our rifles in my free hand.

And… I fell back. Broke contact. Retreated.

Ran away.

Final score- Chimeras-1. Us-0.

_Sonuva_…

I'm too tired. Can't right anymore.

* * *

OH MY GOD! THEY GOT BOOZER!

YOU BASTARDS!

WHAT KINDA SICK PEOPLE WOULD GET RID OF A DRUNKEN- oh wait, I would.

Well, that's all. I'll update again… whenever.


	12. Entry 12

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

Me no own Full Metal.

Now back to your regular broadcast.

* * *

Entry 12:

It scary on OP at night. We've lost so many guys around here, we've gone from two-man OP's to just one. I try to get some sleep, but every time I try, I see again the scenes of the battle.

I can't even remember where I left off on the story before. I'm that tired.

Let's see…..

Boozer. Right. I carried him back to this casualty collection point we had outside of the lab. Apparently, all hell was breaking loose up there. The Fuhrer was calmly directing the troops into the labs. Like I said before, the guy is way too mellow.

One of the guys from first squad was killed, and we had a few others wounded too. Of course, I already knew about Boozer- and if you had carried his drunken ass out of there, you wouldn't forget it either. But I didn't know about Gemini- moaning on the ground, covered in blast wounds. One of the grenades must've landed too close to him. The docs say it looked worse than it actually was, and that he would be OK. I was gonna go over and say something to him, but a jeep roared in and he and Boozer were both carted out before I had a chance to say good-bye.

Which stunk.

"You OK, Rodyle?" one doc asked, "you hit anywhere else?"

He tried to get a dressing onto my mouth. I felt there and realized that Boozer must've given me a bloody lip when he slugged me before. I told him I was fine, and just put a wet rag on it to stop the bleeding.

I knew that this was in no way over, so I prepared. I got some more rifle clips for me and Smokey, and some SMG rounds for guys carrying them like Castillo. I realized that Schmitty would also need some more ammo, because the MG could shred through belts in a heartbeat, so I grabbed a few of those. The docs down there were probably almost out of meds, too, so I grabbed those also. I almost grabbed some more grenades, but realized we're working in tight corridors. And after seeing what happened to Gemini, I decided the risk wasn't worth it.

Finally, I was ready. I heard some troops in the other half of the lab say that they had some problems up ahead.

Couldn't be any worse than ours.

The trip back was a lot quicker than before. It seemed like I was back in the battle in no time. Another guy was killed and several more wounded. Fish was propped up against the wall. He'd been hit a few times. I dropped the ammo off and went to go take cover with Smokey when I heard a plock sound and I saw Schmitty go down, still firing his MG until he hit the ground.

"Rodyle, get the machine gun!" the LT yelled at me. The docs had dragged Schmitty to the casualty collection point, but the MG was just laying there. I ran over, grabbed it, and then ran back, dodging at least a hundred bullets in between. There was half a belt of ammo still in the gun and I had another belt around my shoulder, but these things were ammo-eaters, so I didn't count on them lasting to long. I fired in short bursts, unlike Schmitty's long bursts. I haven't held an MG since basic. I knew how they worked, of course.

Just not that well.

As I loaded in another belt, a man-prisoner, it looked like- with a disheveled face and really long hair stepped out from the chimera's side of the battle.

"Who the hell is that?" I heard Regazzi yell.

The man grabbed one of our guys and just held him for a while. The trooper suddenly started glowing. Ok….

The man grinned and then threw him down to the part of the line with the most soldiers in it.

"EVERYBODY DOWN!" Castillo screamed. Me and Smokey hit the dirt.

There was a gigantic explosion, followed by a whole lot of screams and shouts. Me and Smokey just went on hugging the wall until it was finally over.

And then- and I don't think I'll _ever_ forget this part- a platoons worth of soldiers screaming and crying for a medic. What was left of our company started pulling them out. I just sat up and stared into No-Man's-Land. The chimeras had escaped.

"What just happened?" Smokey asked.

Looked at where the soldier the man held had fallen and saw he was no more. Then I remembered Castillo's words about that guy Kimblee, about how he could re-arrange the substances in a person to create a bomb.

"I think… we just met the Crimson Alchemist," I said.

At that moment, Lt. Col. Hughes showed up and started directing the evacuation. He said we had found the Elrics and that we could get out of here now. Those words must have been from God. Who else?

The trip back out was also quicker than the first time I went out- and that time I had had a wounded three-hundred pound drunk over my shoulder. When we came out, they were evacuating the Elrics and my wounded squad mates. This time, I got to say good-bye.

I went off to the MG pit, where Smokey and Shadow were sitting and drinking some water. I joined them. We just sat in silence for a little while. None of us knew exactly what to say.

"Goddam…" Smokey finally said.

"I've seen a lot of skirmishes since Ishbal," Shadow looked back towards the labs, "but this was one of the worst."

I had to agree there. My first battle. And my worst.

"Get some sleep, men," Castillo called out.

Yeah. Sleep. Sleep sounded good.

* * *

Enjoy? Hate? You're choice.

That's all for now. Reviews are greatly appreciated.


	13. Entry 13

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

I don't own FullMetal.

This is a good thing, because if my friends ever found out I did, there would be hell to pay.

Short chapter, to say the least.

* * *

Entry 13:

Word is, there were indeed three or four homunculi down in Lab 5. They were the ones attacking the Elrics- and Scar, from what we heard from Al- but one of them let the chimeras loose and fought us with them.

Makes the whole thing even worse. If possible.

No one's really sure just how many guys we lost in the labs. All I know is, the numbers my company had were _big_. From our squad alone, we lost Fish, Gemini, Boozer, Schmitty, Blake, and Waverly. Twelve other guys were killed in the battle and we evaced forty, maybe fifty others. Needless to say, there isn't really a whole lot of the company left.

In our squad, that just leaves me, Smokey, Shadow, Regazzi, and Castillo left. Lt. Col. Hughes put some new kid in our squad so we'd have equal numbers. He's this really short, really skinny kid with buck teeth. Regazzi named him "Squeaker" (five bucks to whoever can guess why) and so far, he's fitting right in. He's from Dublith, this little town west of here.

Col. Mustang just got word that we had a battle and now he's hell-bent on getting back over here to Central to take action.

Ed and Al are recuperating in the hospital. Turns out, Winry forgot a screw in the arm the last time he went for repairs. This resulted in the arm malfunctioning, which resulted in him getting the crap kicked out of him. She's beating herself up over it. Way I see it, it was just an accident, but now I actually wish that Gemini was still here.

One weird thing, though, is that now Ed's saying he's giving up on the search for the Philosopher's Stone. This is really interesting, because he told me himself that it was a sure fire way to get his and Al's original bodies back. So now, they're headed for Dublith to see their old teacher Izumi Curtis. Winry's going with them to Rush Valley.

Something's not right about all of this…

* * *

Most of you have seen the series, right?

Then you all know what's gonna happen next in the military…


	14. Entry 14

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

I don't own Full Metal Alchemist.

Forewarned: the next three chapters are gonna be maniacally depressing for some. If you are a person that does not like a favorite character getting killed (hell, I don't either.), then you might just wanna wait until Entry 17 comes out.

Everyone else, enjoy.

* * *

Entry 14:

Lt. Col. Hughes is dead.

I can't believe it. Jesus, this is awful!

I just can't believe this would happen to such a cool officer.

Maybe I should re-cap:

Me and Smokey were out on OP. We're finally doing two man-outposts again after the hell inferno we had just endured. It was the middle of the night and we were fixing up the barbed wire while adding some new ones in some places. We were fighting about something really stupid- Jesus, I can't even remember what it _was_ now- and cracking jokes about some of the officers, mainly about Col. Mustang and Lt. Hawkeye (who are getting in Central tomorrow).

And then, all of a sudden, we heard a gun go off. Just once, but it was enough to send us diving forward and getting caught up in the wire. We just stayed in that position for a while, listening.

"What the hell was that?" I asked.

"Either someone's gun went off by accident, or we're under attack. Take your pick," Smokey replied.

We slowly got ourselves out of the wire and checked out our cuts. Nothing _we_ considered dangerous, but maybe the docs would do something. Then we grabbed our new rifles (fifteen-round semi- auto; after the disaster with Lab 5, they realized we'd do better with weapons that didn't need manual ejection after every shot fired.) and, dummies that we are, ran toward where we thought we had heard the shooting.

The minute we got there, everything in the world froze. Even now, I still feel completely numb. Lt. Col. Hughes- one of the best officers I had ever known- was sprawled out on the ground, glasses askew, a bullet hole in his chest and his arm was bleeding too. He wasn't moving.

Smokey screamed for a medic as I ran over to the Lt. Col. and started getting out my First-Aid kit. I was getting the bandages on and trying to wake him up at the same time.

When the guy finally opened his eyes, you could tell that he wasn't gonna hold on for long, so I just kept trying to patch up the wound.

"Guess I… messed up a little… huh, Private?" he asked weakly, that old grin on his face.

"You're gonna be alright, sir," I said, getting more bandages out. Off left, I heard Smokey yell "SOMEONE GET THE GODDAM MEDIC OVER HEAR, NOW!"

I started getting out the bandage for the arm wound when I remembered that I had only heard one shot fired. Nor did this look like a gunshot wound; more like a blade wound, yet it wasn't from a knife. It looked like some sort of lance (we had studied all sorts of wounds in basic. That way, we would know what the person was killed with) had gone through, yet it was interesting, since the army didn't have lances.

I was so intrigued by the wound that I missed Lt. Col. Hughes's next words.

"Sorry sir?"

He inclined that I should bend down. I did so, and he whispered words into my ear that even know rips me apart-

"Tell…my girls…. I'll be… OK…."

The medics showed up then and pushed me out of the way. They started working on him as fast as they could but suddenly, they stopped. One of them checked his pulse, then shook his head.

I didn't like the way this was playing out, so I pushed my way through them and started getting some more bandages out. One of the docs tried to pull me out of the way, but I just shrugged him away. No way in _hell_ I was gonna let this guy die. Not my C.O. - my friend. No way.

"Scotty."

I almost didn't recognize who that was until Smokey said it again.

"Scotty," he said, "we gotta go."

Go. Right.

The docs zipped him in a body bag and loaded him onto the jeep and drove off. I just stood there, rifle over my shoulder, staring at my hands. My blood-covered hands. So much blood…

"Take a look at this," Smokey suddenly said.

He was looking at this telephone booth near where Lt. Col. Hughes had fallen. The phone was off its hook.

I put a quarter in and hit the re-dial button.

"Eastern Headquarters," Sgt. Maj. Fuery's voice said.

I didn't answer. I just hung up and looked at Smokey, whose eyes were big.

Someone didn't want Lt. Col. Hughes to tell Col. Mustang something.

I can't believe this.

Lt. Col. Hughes was a hell of a guy.

* * *

Nothing to say, really.

Reviews please.


	15. Entry 15

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

I don't own Full Metal Alchemist.

I'd like to own the military, 'cause they're cool. But the Japanese should have all the rights. 'Cause they make our video games and stuff.

Anyhoo…

Part two of three in the "Hughes Memorial" series.

Aaaaaaand………. Action.

* * *

Entry 15:

This morning, after chow, the doc- along with Castillo, Lt. Hawkeye, and Col. Mustang, who are all settled in- ordered Smokey and me (more like threatened) to go to the infirmary to get our cuts checked out. We didn't argue with them- we had barely said a word since the night before.

We hopped the first jeep out and got there in about twenty minutes. Some guy who'd been sick with digestive problems was in bad shape, so he went in first. Fine by us. We just sat there and waited. Some guy with his arm in a sling from playing basketball came over to talk to us.

"You guys been here long?" he asked. Indicating if we had been in the army a long time.

I just nodded. "Uh-huh," Smokey said. Cues that basically said to "get the hell away from us before we go homunculi on your ass."

Of course, he didn't get the hint. Instead, he got closer to us and asked, "What's it like?"

Replacement. Without a doubt. And we were too pissed off to care.

"Love it. Can't get enough," I told him.

This time he got the hint. He scurried on out of there faster than I had ever seen a guy with a busted arm run.

I felt kinda guilty.

Not really though.

In the end, we ended up with a hell of a lot of stitches. Worse one I got was on my leg, Smokey's his hand. Which, as a runner and a writer respectfully, is kinda ironic. They gave us a bottle of antibiotics and even when they told us, I _still_ didn't know what the hell it did. I guess it was to keep the cuts from getting any badly infected than they already might have been. They said we could crash here for a few days, but we just said no. They looked at us like we were nuts, but we just blew them off.

What did they know? _They_ didn't see their buddies get shot up in Lab 5. _They_ didn't watch one of their C.O.'s die in their arms.

So screw them.

Took us the rest of the day to get a ride back. When we did, Castillo told us of the funeral tomorrow and that we should wear our Class A uniforms. We only heard about half of what he said.

I'm done. I'm too tired.

* * *

I'll update again in about half an hour.

Next is the funeral. Joy.


	16. Entry 16

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

I don't own Full Metal Alchemist.

This is the final part of the "Hughes Memorial" series. For those who get very emotional about this kinda thing, or don't like seeing an emotional funeral, speak now, or forever hold your peace.

I just wanna point out one thing- I don't know Hughes. I only saw the later episodes, mainly 39-51, so I never saw any of the Hughes episodes. My friends all say he was a helluva guy. I'm hoping that, in the chapter that I write now, I'll be able to capture the moment of when one of the funniest characters of the show walked out forever. Even though I never saw "Words of Farewell", I just hope that, even if I screw up, that I just get this one thing the way I want it- sad and touching.

Well….. here we go.

* * *

Entry 16:

Lt. Col. Hughes's funeral was today. Me and Smokey told each other that, no matter what, we wouldn't cry. We had to look dignified out there.

It was a really nice ceremony. Major General Hakuro, one of the major big-shots around here, organized this really nice trumpet playing as they lowered the coffin. All of the soldiers stood at attention. All the officers wore their hats over their eyes. When the coffin went down, I saw a few of them were crying, including- and we were all surprised at this one- Maj. Armstrong.

I kept it together.

I went up to the grave to pay my respects. I just looked at the grave, with the words "Maes Hughes" printed on them, and a swarm of memories came back to me. Images of the day I prank called him out of the office so we could have that party came to me most fondly, and I actually managed a smile, then stopped when I realized it would never happen again.

I still kept it together.

After I left, I saw Gracia Hughes, the Lt. Col's wife, come up to the grave and drop the flowers in. She broke down the minute they touched the coffin. My heart went out to her, cracked as it was.

But I still didn't cry.

It was when the first shovel full of dirt went into the coffin that I heard a little tiny voice. It was Elicia Hughes, Lt. Col. Hughes's beloved daughter, pulling against her mother, wanting to run to the grave. Her words thrust a knife straight through my heart:

"Mommy, what's going on? Why are they burying Daddy? They can't! He said he had a lot of work to do! If they bury him, he can't finish it! Make them stop! DADDY!"

And that was when I cried.

I went a little ways away and just freakin' broke _down_. If my heart was cracked before, now it was absolutely shattered. This man had been known as a great man not because he was a soldier, or because he was in charge of intelligence, or because he was an Ishbal veteran. Lt. Col. Hughes was great- and always will be great- because through it all, he always loved his daughter. And the fact that that one thing so rare to this world was now taken away from his four-year-old daughter- I just _lost_ it.

I sensed Smokey, Shadow, and Regazzi behind me, but I didn't care if they saw me, 'cause I could see them and they were crying too. Castillo was a little ways away from us, back turned, but we could sense that he was crying too. And I was the one who loudly and openly wept.

We could see that it was about to rain. I thought it would be a great thing if it rained today, of all days. The heaven's tribute to this loss. I saw Col. Mustang and Lt. Hawkeye walk away and I saw that the Col., too, was weeping.

And I just kept on crying.

Maes Hughes was promoted to Brigadier General, given a medal of valor, and was buried with full military honors.

And like I said before, he was a hell of a guy.

* * *

I actually did cry a little writing this. First time I ever cried over my works.

So, how was it? Be honest in reviews, please?

Now we can go back to your regular boredom and humor.


	17. Entry 17

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

Do not own the alchemist known as FullMetal.

Good, because if Emily ever found I did, she'd have me bring over Ed so she could drool over him.

More of that next chapter.

* * *

Entry 17:

Morale around here is pretty low lately- the worst I've seen it. Everyone's all moody and depressed and they don't seem to piss each other off as much as they used to. And sometimes, they all get that look in their eyes that their all quiet and just seeing things- what, is another matter entirely.

I'm no better. Sometimes, if I'm just walking down the street, I wonder if I'll walk into a bullet the way Brig. Gen. Hughes did. But you can't think like that. Ever. Because once you do, you'll start to get crazy and eventually go so far as to put a bullet through your foot and get evaced.

Like a guy in 2nd Platoon did yesterday.

Morale around here is really low, but there is some good news. Col. Mustang has officially transferred over to Central as our commanding officer. He's got Lt. Hawkeye bringing the rest of the entourage back- including Lt. Havoc. We're finally getting our platoon leader back. Not that the replacement LT wasn't good- without him, we probably wouldn't have gotten through Lab 5- but Lt. Havoc's a more likeable guy.

It was good to see them back again. Right away, Lt. Havoc started having us do what we did before he left- enjoying the nice spring day. Life was pretty good.

Hard to believe, but I've been in-country almost five months now. Where the hell has the time gone? It seemed like yesterday that I was just meeting my squad for the first time. There were a lot more faces back then. Now, half the company's gone- dead, or wounded bad enough to be sent home. We never heard about what happened to Fish or the other guys. I hope we hear from one of them soon. I owe Boozer a slug in the mouth.

Mail from home has really kept me going. My mom, dad, my little brother- they all write to me. I wrote after Lab 5 if two guys named Blake and Waverly had shown up in town yet, but so far, they hadn't heard anything.

Lt. Havoc's starting a baseball game. I'm gonna go watch.

* * *

Back to normality finally? Only time will tell. 


	18. Entry 18

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

sigh again, I tell you, I don't own FullMetal.

Getting into the topic I told you about for the disclaimer last entry:

You see, my friend Emily is an FMA nerd, and is madly in love with Ed. Hell, that's the reason she and her boyfriend (one of my best friends) broke up- because she was madly obsessive over this. She's a Winry-nut too, so for last Halloween, another friend I call "KT" (Katie- get it?) had a party and Emily showed up dressed as Winry. It was the one with the white sleeveless shirt and the mini-skirt… you know which one I'm talking about.

Looked really hot, too. But you won't see me telling _her_ that. She'd kick my ass if I did.

Anyway, sorry if I'm going too fast with the story this weekend. It's just, when I'm in a roll, I'm on a roll.

On with the show.

* * *

Entry 18:

Today, I got my first major inkling that something serious was going down.

I went back to the place where Brig. Gen. Hughes died. I didn't want to, but Col. Mustang insisted that I come. Smokey didn't want to go back, so Shadow came instead, and we just stood guard near the telephone booth while the Col. made his inspection.

After a while, I saw Lt. Hawkeye walk up to him, Maj. Armstrong in tow. After salutes were given and returned, they retreated into an alleyway. And, never being the ones to be left in the dark, me and Shadow followed.

Pressing up against the wall so we weren't seen (easy for Shadow, hence his name), we listened to the conversation.

Maj. Armstrong said that they had been investigating around the clock, and now they think they know who Brig. Gen. Hughes's killers might be. The Col. asked why there hadn't been any arrests, and the Maj. answered that they had no clue as to where they were hiding.

"I want names," The Col. said.

"I'm sorry sir, but I can't," Maj. Armstrong answered.

Col. Mustang glared. "This is a direct order from an officer who outranks you," he threatened.

Still, the Maj. didn't answer. The Col. was without a doubt in my mind pissed, but just when we thought it was on with the gloves and good-bye Maj., he just told the man to get the hell out of his sight.

Which was our cue to leave as well. We hightailed our asses out of there and headed over to the MG pit. Smokey and Regazzi were having a drink there, but it was lemonade, so they were able to comprehend our words as we filled them in on what we had overheard.

"Jesus, some help the Maj. was, huh?" Regazzi said.

"No, he was," said Shadow, taking a sip from his canteen.

"Like what?" demanded Regazzi.

"Well, for starters, he said Gen. Hughes's killers- plural. Right there, that says that someone else was involved."

"What, like some sort of conspiracy?" I asked.

"What the hell would they get outta killing the head of the Intel Department?" Smokey asked.

"Another thing, if Maj. Armstrong knew the identities, why didn't he say them?" Regazzi asked.

"That's point two: The fact that the Maj. didn't answer the Col. when given a direct order says only one thing- that someone higher up on the chain than Col. Mustang told the Maj. to keep it hush-hush," Shadow explained.

"Why the hell would they do that?" I asked.

"I dunno; keep a low profile, not to arouse suspicion. Maybe they staged the murder to keep attention from something bigger going on. Or, maybe Brig. Gen. Hughes found out what they were up to."

"But who?"

"Who knows who or where. But I have a possible why- if you paste these together with what Ed and Al said about giving up the search on the Philosopher's Stone, you get some interesting results."

Shadow's last words made us all wonder: did someone higher up want the stone? Was a general or military official want the power that came out of that ridiculous myth _so badly_ that they would kill one of their own soldiers?

Yesterday, all I needed to worry about was any enemy we faced. Now I need to worry about my own superiors.

The Lab 5 battle. The death of Brig. Gen. Hughes. Now this.

This is just getting scary.

What the _hell_ is going on?

* * *

Reviews please! 


	19. Entry 19

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

I don't own anything from FullMetal.

New character introduction... well, ok, he's not really new, he was in the anime, but first time in my story and…. I'm rambling.

* * *

Enjoy:

Entry 19:

As me and Smokey were walking through the cafeteria today, we saw Maj. Armstrong sitting with some new officer, a really pale guy with slick black hair and a pompous smile that just made someone wanna punch him in the face.

"Who's the newby?" Smokey asked Shadow, who was eating with Regazzi and Squeaker.

He had his mouth loaded with mashed potatoes, so he couldn't answer right away, but when he cleared his throat, he said, "That's Lieutenant Colonel Frank Archer. He's Brig. Gen. Hughes's replacement, in charge of the Intelligence Department."

Central Army sure doesn't wait long before sending us some replacements. Out with the old, in with the new.

Makes you feel all warm inside.

For the Head of Intelligence, Lt. Col. Archer seems more interested in being some sort of war hero then he does his current job. The Fuhrer's got him in charge of researching the stuff from Lab 5, but by the sound of things, Lt. Col. Archer is spending all of his time looking for those escaped chimeras from the lab. If he ends up leading us in a battle…. we'd be more than screwed.

What were the higher-ups thinking? The guy's a frikin' disciplinarian! He wants us in uniform all the time, and he wants us to treat our posts with respect and honor. The whole time he's talking to us, I'm wondering how many promotions a guy has to get to be this psychotic.

And I thought Brig. Gen. Hughes's meetings were bad.

There has been one major bright spot this week: Because we lost so many officers and squad leaders in the labs, Gen. Hakuro has decided that, instead of just bringing in a bunch of new guys, he hands out some promotions. Veterans of before Lab 5 and before who were just privates are now finding themselves leading whole squads and-in some cases- whole platoons.

None have come to our guys yet, but we all know that Castillo is gonna be made sergeant. Not for most liked person, but because he's been in- state so long. Shadow's probably gonna be made corporal- he next senior in line.

They come in next week.

Can't wait to see their faces.

* * *

That's all I got for now.

Reviews are cool.


	20. Entry 20

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

Me no own FMA.

This is an interesting chapter. I hope you enjoy reading it as I did writing it.

* * *

Entry 20:

Holy Christ, I-I barely made it out of there alive. That was the worst thing I've ever gone through. I still don't feel safe.

I found out the hard way that homunculi really _do_ exist.

I was walking down the street, having just gotten out of the bakery. I was pretty happy, because Lt. Col. Archer and Maj. Armstrong were down in Southern HQ and I had just had my fill of muffins.

Then I saw the roadblock we had set up and realized that I had no more money left. And I really didn't feel like having to go through ten stacks of paper work to clarify that I am a Central soldier, like Regazzi did the other night. So, using my sneakiness to my advantage, I snuck through the alleyway and through the pass that only my squad knew of.

I felt pleased with myself until I reached the corner and turned it, when low and behold, I saw Smokey standing there, looking around. He must've felt my presence, for he turned around and gave me a big ole' grin.

I asked him what he was doing here. He said he was trying to find the library. I told him it was about two kilometers in the other direction. Then I asked if he was OK.

"Yeah, man, why you ask?" he asked me.

"Well, for starters, you hate the library," I said.

Kinda ironic, isn't it, seeing as how he's a writer and all? But after doing that homunculi report… we're both content with never setting foot in there again, thanks.

Anyhoo, he said there was something he needed to look up. Before I could press matters, he started walking off. He made it about three steps before I realized that something defiantly was off.

He wasn't limping.

You see, he had busted his ankle yesterday on a run. And last I had seen him (this afternoon) he was still limping.

I slung my rifle off my shoulder and ordered him to halt. He didn't move for a second, but I guess the imposter felt like dying, because he whipped around and aimed his gun at me. Bad move.

BAM! I dropped him right then and there. He arched backwards, then-

"fizzle" He transformed into Shadow, glasses on straight. I realized that whoever this guy was was a good clown, trying to get me to hold up because he was impersonating my friends; people I care about.

He thought I was stupid

"Sorry, Mac, ain't falling for it!" I yelled.

BAM!

He was Regazzi, that big stupid grin on his face.

BAM!

He was Squeaker, buck-tooth and all.

BAM!

He was Castillo, wild red hair.

"Boy, you just ain't trying no more," I said.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Finally, he transformed into somebody I didn't know- some kid with wild green hair and black clothing. He looked like a girl, but his next words convinced me he was a boy.

"So, not as dumb as you look, huh, hick?" he growled.

I just pointed my rifle at him and told him to raise his hands and come quietly. His response was to try to punch me, but I was too quick, and soon had my gun to the back of his head.

"Another move, and the only place you'd move to is Hell's Gates," I threatened.

"Well, well, Envy, looks like this kid beat you at your own game."

I looked over my shoulder to see this really hot babe walk in. If looks could kill, I was in Heaven. With her was this short, fat guy who was looking at me kinda hungrily. I got out my handgun and aimed it at them.

The kid- "Envy", or whatever the hell she called him- backed away for a little while the woman stepped forward. I hoisted my handgun and just aimed my rifle at her.

"'Nother step, and I'll fire," I said, "I don't wanna shoot a hotty like you."

She took the step. I pulled the trigger. Put a cap right through her head.

Then she arched forward and the bullet just fell out. No blood or nothing. She acted like she hadn't felt a thing.

"Now, now, Private, is _that_ any way to behave to your elders?" she asked sexily. Any other day of the week, I would've taken her up on the offer, but I valued my life at this stage of the game.

That's when I saw it. A tattoo over her breasts- a winged serpent eating its tail.

The Ouroborus tattoo.

_Homunculi._

Aw, crap.

"Hey, Lust, can I eat him? Pleeease?" the fat dude asked. I was surprised. He hasn't said a word as of yet. By the unintelligent look on his face, I assumed he _couldn't._

"Lust" seemed to ponder the question. Then she smiled this really seductive one.

"Eat up, Gluttony."

I didn't stick around to figure out what the hell they were talking about, or how he was gonna eat me, because I was firing my rifle point-blank, hitting them and yet at the same time not hitting them. That thing "Gluttony" charged right at me.

_To hell with the gun,_ I thought. I threw my rifle onto the ground and hauled my skinny white ass out of there as fast as I could. He crashed straight through a frikin' wall, and right then I realized he was _really_ hungry.

It seemed like forever just to get out of that alleyway, but I finally did, and ran straight through tothe roadblock. I was almost there when a security personal came out, held up his hand, and yelled, "Halt!"

"HALT HELL, GET OUT OF MY WAY!" I screamed as I ran straight through the barricade.

The guard turned to see what it was that got me running like the devil and I guess Gluttony was right there, because there was a scream and a large smash, which I'm guessing was the roadblock going all to hell. I didn't stop to help though, 'cause that homunculus sure as hell wasn't.

I didn't stop until I was inside the compound and was in the barracks and had run to my dorm and had slammed the door so hard that Regazzi yelled loudly because his fingers were in the way. I ran over to my bed and lay down.

"What happened?" Shadow asked.

"Homunculi," was the only word I got out before I blacked out.

Now, I'm awake again. Col. Mustang has security personnel looking all over the place, but they haven't found them as of yet.

All I know is, I ain't leaving this compound until I feel safer.

I've never gone against them before.

I hope I never have to again.

* * *

Not as good as I thought it would be, but some pretty funny lines are in there.

And you've gotta admit- Envy _does_ look like a girl.

Reviews es coolio.


	21. Entry 21

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

I don't own FullMetal.

No rants today. Just the chapter.

Enjoy.

* * *

Entry 21:

Three days and still no sign of those things. Col. Mustang is pretty much giving up the search, but the Fuhrer insists on no one leaving the compound without someone else with them. At least until the "red alert" is over.

Three days, and I still can't go take a piss in the _bathroom_ without having Shadow or somebody stand right outside. Nobody asks questions, thank God, but I see some pretty queer looks thrown my way.

Screw them. They don't seem to realize that I wanna live.

Lt. Col. Archer and Maj. Armstrong got in yesterday. Apparently, they're heroes down South- because of them, a homunculus and several chimeras that escaped from Lab 5 are dead. Still doesn't make him that loved up here, but to each his own.

They don't let me go through the cafeteria without an escort anymore. Two guards are now outside the MG pit also while we hang out. And forget about putting me on OP- _they_ sure have. Pretty cool, but after a while, it just gets plain annoying. Especially if me and Smokey wanna go put a few whoopee cushions on Lt. Col. Archer's chair.

The promotions I told you about before come in tomorrow.

Can't wait to see Castillo and Shadow's faces when they get them.

* * *

I'll have a better chapter out later.

Peace.


	22. Entry 22

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

I own not the FullMetal Alchemist.

This is a really cool chapter and I'm really proud of it.

Enjoy.

* * *

Entry 22:

I can't believe it.

I got promoted.

I'm _Sergeant _Scott Rodyle now.

My mind's a blur, but this is how I remember it:

Me and Smokey were out in the MG pit, cleaning the gun. I finally got those guards away from me, as we feel that the threat has passed. So we finally got the day to ourselves, as Castillo was eagerly awaiting his sergeants lapels. We just cleaned and sang for a good three hours.

On days like today, life was good.

We were just finishing the barrel when Lt. Hawkeye walked over. We turned to her, saluted, and went back to the gun. She wasn't finished.

"Lt. Col. Archer wants to see you," she said.

We both sighed- this was routine for us by now- and were getting up when she added, "Just you, Rodyle. Jones (Smokey's last name) stays here."

Me and Smokey looked at each other, both with a frown. Usually, both of us got busted. Finally, he just shrugged. I shrugged. He went back to the gun while I followed the Lt. to the office.

My mind was spinning. What had I done _this_ time? I mean, I was always getting into trouble one way or another (either by court martial threatens or being killed by crazed homunculi) but this time was different. Brig. Gen. Hughes was easygoing at least. I had heard that Lt. Col. Archer had absolutely butchered those chimeras down South.

I guess Lt. Hawkeye sensed my nervousness, because she said, "Relax, it's nothing bad."

With Lt. Col. Archer, it was _always_ bad.

Soon, we were right outside his office. She opened the door and held it open. I gaped at her. She was sending me in there _alone?_

"This is between you and him," she said.

Crap. This _was_ bad.

Lt. Col. Archer was at his desk, sipping a cup of tea. I heard the door click shut behind me, trapping me in with the devil.

God what could I have possibly done to deserve _this?_

Then I remembered. I had slipped a litter of puppies into Lt. Breda's room (the guy hates dogs) and had caused utter chaos. But I thought I had covered my tracks more carefully that that!

"Sit down, Private," the Lt. Col. said softly.

His voice was friendly, but I was on guard. Images of those chimeras being ripped to shreds ran through my mind. Nevertheless, I sat down, dummy that I am that listened to orders. He had a large file on his desk.

"I'm just going to read off parts of your file to you. All you need to do is answer the questions I ask you," he explained.

I didn't really know what to think of that. It was a win-lose situation. Walk away from the recent crime and smack dab into all the other stuff.

"So, you've been in the service for… almost six months now?"

"Um, yes sir."

"Lt. Havoc's platoon?"

"Yes, sir."

"How's it been?"

"Well, other than a couple of homunculi trying to kill me, pretty well."

He turned the page and let out a whistle. My conduct report._ Crap._

"You and Pvt. Jones seem to have played quite a few pranks around here the last few months."

"Well, a guy needs a hobby, sir."

"It says you once set fire to the file room?"

"Yeah, we were making smores, sir."

"In the file room?"

"We're not allowed to cook in our bunks, sir."

Even he managed a laugh there. He turned the page. This was about the Lab 5 battle.

"You had a bit of a rough time in the labs, correct?"

"Yeah, we took a lot of casualties."

"It says you picked up a wounded squad member that outweighed you by a good two hundred pounds and carried him the three miles to the casualty collection point?"

"Yes sir. Boozer, sir."

"Sorry?"

"His name sir. Boozer."

"You lost six out of ten squad mates?"

"Yes sir. Squad leader included."

"And your machine gunner?"

"Schmitty, yes sir."

"And you took over the gun?"

"Yes sir."

"What was that like?"

"Well, it added a good fifty-three pounds to my gear, not adding the extra barrels, bipod, ammo…"

"What about emotionally?'

"Oh. Uh, nothing sir."

He then turned the page again.

"You were the one who found Maes Hughes, correct?"

"Oh…… yes sir."

"What was that like?"

"Really tough. The Brig, Gen. was a hell of a guy….. can we talk about something else, sir?"

"How about what happened the other night in that alleyway?"

"I was just walking through and I came upon them. I'm lucky I got away."

"Very. But you didn't just run, though."

"Well, I shot them, of course. Took up an entire clip of ammo. But they wouldn't go down. I got one right in the head, didn't even faze her. They're not human."

"But you fought?"

I was starting to get pissed off, and it was showing, because all he cared about was if I had fired my rifle at five thousand pounds of meat and stomach.

"Yes, sir, I fought. Whoop-de-doo. Almost got eaten by a fatass with the mentality of a two-year-old, but I fought."

Lt. Col. Archer just grinned.

"No, no, Private, nothing offensive. That just made my decision for me."

"Decision for what?"

"About whether or not I should give you these."

He got out a box and slid it across the desk to me. I looked at it, at him, and back at the box. Finally, I decided it was too big to be one of those spring death-traps I had heard about and I opened them to reveal two lapels, both with a gold line down the center and two stars on them.

The rank of a sergeant.

"Congratulations, Sergeant."

To say I was just surprised is an _understatement._ I probably would've had a heart attack if I wasn't so cool.

"But… why…?"

"Because, Sergeant, any man that can pull that off," he nodded toward my file, "can probably managed a squad."

He ushered me to the dressing room, where he had a new uniform for me. I tried it on, sewed the lapels in, and stood in front of the mirror.

_Damn_, I looked spiffy!

As I walked out the door, I saw Lt. Hawkeye standing outside the door. She looked at me like she always does, but- was that a hint of a smile? She just bid me on my way and left.

When I got back to the MG pit, the rest of the squad, minus Castillo, were vegging out. I sat next to Smokey.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Man, Castillo is _pissed_. That big promotion never came in," Squeaker said excitedly.

"Wonder who they're gonna get to replace him?" pondered Regazzi.

"Scotty… what are _those_?"

Shadow had noticed my new lapels. I grinned and showed them to everyone.

There was absolutely no noise whatsoever. If I didn't value my sanity, I would have dropped a pin just to hear its metallic noise. If their mouths went any lower, their jaw bones might sue for malpractice.

Finally, Smokey let out one of the biggest yells I had ever heard from a man- even a wounded one- and slapped me really hard on the back. Regazzi went back to his hole and came back with a few bottles of beer. We toasted my sergeancy and had a hell of a party.

Me, a sergeant.

Who would've thought?

* * *

I had a lot of fun with this entry.

Reviews for this would be uber cool.


	23. Entry 23

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

I don't own the FullMetal Alchemist.

Or the Flame Alchemist, or the Crimson Alchemist, or the Sewing-Life Alchemist, or… well, you get the picture.

Entry 23:

* * *

Castillo was without a doubt pissed off that I got the promotion instead of him. He has a good argument- his fourteen years to my six months. He's giving me the silent treatment now and only responds if I give him a direct order (something I had hoped never to have to do).

Way I see it, I just saved his damn life.

Being the squad leader is _tough_! For starters, there's a hell of a lot of paperwork involved. If I wanted that, I'd work for my uncle in Xenotime. And for another thing, I gotta attend a lot of meetings with the C.O.'s. That _really_ sucks.

Now that I'm in charge, Smokey's the new permanent machine-gunner. He always did love being on that thing- he just hated carrying it. Who can blame him? The thing weighs a good fifty-three pounds. And that's not including the bipod, extra barrels, ammo- the works.

Regazzi wanted to be the machine gunner, but I told him no. He asked if I wanted him to fight for it, but I just said no. I figure, if Smokey's been helping me clean and work it these past couple of months, he earned a right to keep it.

Told Regazzi he could be the assistant if he wanted to. Somewhere in amongst all the swearing, I _think_ he said no. He stomped back to his bunk, saying a whole bunch of words I didn't even know _existed_.

I think the guys warming up. I really do.

* * *

That's all for now.

You know the drill.


	24. Entry 24

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

FullMetal doesn't belong to me… or Emily, thank God.

And…. go.

* * *

Entry 24:

Me and the guys were lounging outside the MG pit. The replacements were with us, though I guess I shouldn't call them that anymore, 'cause they've been with us for a while now. It was a really warm day where nothing could go wrong.

Of course, something did go wrong, and, as always, it came in the form of our beloved Lt. Col. Archer, who was walking by with Maj. Armstrong as usual. We all toned the conversation down a bit as they walked by so he wouldn't hear our words. We didn't think he'd stop, though, but he did.

"Enjoy this while you last," he said, old smug grin on his face, "we'll be moving out soon."

War. Somewhere out there, there was a trouble big enough for us. Smokey and I groaned. We were going to war.

"Got us a mission, sir? Already?" Regazzi asked cynically.

Lt. Col. Archer didn't even bother to respond to that, so the two officers were walking off when Regazzi –who never could keep his mouth shut- blurted out, "Don't they know we're settled here?"

"That's enough, Private." Never thought I'd hear those words out of _my_ mouth. But there they were, just in time for our C.O. to turn his head, wearing about the meanest look I'd ever seen from a guy. I knew it was directed toward Regazzi, but the words, of course, went to me.

"You should learn to control your men, Sergeant," he growled.

"Yes, sir," I said. He just walked off. Once he was out of earshot, I smacked Regazzi upside the head. "Nice going, dumbass."

"The hell's your problem?" he snapped.

"Real smart, Regazzi," Castillo shook his head, "You know you're taking your life into your own hands. Ain't that right, Private?" he asked the latest member of the squad, who had come in from South HQ and knew what Lt. Col. Archer had done down there. But the kid shook his head.

"I told you, I didn't really see any of that for sure," he said.

"What, Archer mutilating those chimeras, or shooting the corporal in his own company?" Squeaker asked.

"Sergeant?"

"What? I didn't hear that!"

"Hold on, he shot one of his own guys?"

"Hold on, hold on, all I heard was the guy got drunk and disobeyed Archer for guard orders. God only knows if it actually happened."

Squeaker just shrugged and flopped down onto a sandbag. Smokey grabbed some grass and threw it at the new guy.

"Yeah, well, from what this guy's been saying, Archer hosed those chimera bastards down," he said.

"Why would he do that, though?" Shadow wondered, "Creatures like that would make good war tools."

"I heard he made a deal with a couple of guys in that homunculus's inner circle. They would work for him while he 'sanitized' the hangout," Castillo spoke out.

"Homunculus?" Ever since my attack, I keep my ear out for homunculi reports.

"Yeah, what was his name... oh yeah, Greed. So, anyway, the troops go in, blowing these guys away, blood all over the place, man, it was complete _bedlam_."

And with that, the rest of the squad went into detail about the massacre.

"I heard they got this gecko-guy with a machine gun, sent him straight into the stream," Smokey said.

"Well, I heard they shot this one guy five, six times through the chest, then three more times in the head after he had already fallen," Regazzi spoke out.

"I heard this bull-guy kicked the crap outta Maj. Armstrong and got out of there with Greed and some other guy," piped up Squeaker.

"No way! That can't happen," I yelled. Shadow took a drink from his canteen.

Well, all I know, from what I heard, Ed took Greed on _by himself_. Tore through his shield like a frikin' maniac on steroids-"

"OK, now _that_ I happened to get a glance at," the new guy said, "I went by the mansion they fought at later on investigations- some old hag that lived there got killed, sawed right down the middle, we think Greed did it- and I saw these bone remains on the table. Whatever the hell Ed did, it wasn't normal."

We didn't have time to ponder this one, because Lt. Havoc ordered all of us to go on hike through the woods. Even still, I felt creeped out by the stories.

Rumor or not, stories are pretty weird.

* * *

This was basically inspired by that episode in **Band of Brothers**, the Carentan one, where Malarkey, Muck, and all those guys were talking about Speirs. Seemed like a good setting for this chapter.

And the gecko thing was Biddo, that lizard-chimera guy from "Assault on Southern Headquarters". That death kinda freaked me out.

Even though Law got his ass handed to him on a silver platter by Armstrong, he still handed out a beating, so he got his spotlight.

Law's and Dorochet's deaths were really sad- they gave their lives for Greed and Marta and all that. Greed's death was kinda sad too.

Anyhoo, reviews are good.


	25. Entry 25

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

I don't own Ed. And since he is FullMetal, then I can just say that. Don't own Ed. Neither does Emily, who is currently after my head, so I'm gonna lay low for a while.

What's worse is, she actually has a motherfreakin' wrench. I've seen (and felt) it already.

Anyhoo, on with the show.

* * *

Entry 25:

Lt. Havoc's been in a bit of a slump as of recent. He just wears this paralyzed expression and I swear to God, the cigarette in his mouth is the same one from _three days ago._

How'd this happen? I'm not entirely sure, but it started with The Lt. getting dumped for the four hundredth time in a _row_. With that, Col. Mustang ordered W.O. Falman and Lt. Breda to find Lt. Havoc a girlfriend. Then Maj. Armstrong came in and volunteered his kid sister, who _also_ turned him down. It's been a real funny story going around barracks, many different alterations to it too.

Just one of those things that makes life more bearable.

Another story going around is of W.O. Falman and Sgt. Maj. Fuery found something called the "Abandoned Warehouse 13". I swear, the number of haunted places with numbers the military has (Lab 5, Warehouse 13), you'd think someone would have made a _movie_ on it sometime. Or maybe a TV show. Or maybe one of those anime/manga things Squeaker keeps telling me about.

Anyhoo…

So they get the Col. in on it and they go and Col. Mustang finds some bones, confirming everyone's belief that the warehouse was haunted- until they discovered that the bones were left there by Lt. Hawkeye's dog, Black Hayate. She picked the mutt up during their time in East HQ and the things been around ever since.

Needless to say, everyone got pissed off when they found out the dog left them on a wild goose chase.

On a more serious note, The Fuhrer gave Lt. Col. Archer the go-ahead to lead a task force out East. Some rebellion getting out of hand or something like that. The lucky target? Smokey's hometown of Lior.

Smokey wrote home telling them to get the hell out of dodge.

Lt. Col. Archer will be in charge of some 7,000 men, us included. He'll also have an armored battalion in on it.

And, to make matters worse for _us_, they promoted him to full colonel.

At least Col. Mustang and the staff will come along with us. So, Col. Mustang _and_ Col. Archer will be in charge.

I'm gonna miss Central. It's been my home since I joined up- almost seven months ago. The people, the places- I'll miss it all.

And… I'm scared at the thought of getting killed out there. I mean, I'll die for the country if I have to, but I kinda want it to be for _something_, y'know? I guess the frontline troops get that feeling everyday, but their used to it by now.

I'm not.

* * *

Pretty good chapter.

Never saw that episode of the military, but I heard it was freakin' hilarious.

Good thing Archer got promoted. You know how much of a pain it is to say "Lt. Col. Archer" over and over?

And from here on in, I'll be writing about episodes I've actually seen with my own eyes. Episodes 39-51. Though I missed 45, but whatever.

Reviews are, as usual, cool.


	26. Entry 26

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

Don't own FullMetal, Flame- you know the drill.

This is two entries from my original draft rolled into one. Why? I really don't know, but whatever.

On with the show.

* * *

Entry 26:

Crap. I can't believe it. My pencil broke. And it was my best and only one. Shadow let me borrow his pen, but I prefer lead. I dunno why; I just do.

We said our good-byes to Central three days ago. Everything we knew about the place- the barracks, the shops, the OPs, the MG pit- seven months of home were gone. Train life has been so boring. There hasn't been a single thing to do but read, write, or sleep.

But today, I discovered something that convinced me that Col. Archer is not all right in the head.

I was up front with the officers, enjoying this really delicious crumb cake I know my sister would like. Col. Mustang was in the seat in front of me, and across the aisle from him were Maj. Armstrong and some new officer that joined up after the attack on South HQ and was wearing this creepy metal mask. The rest of the Col.'s staff were lounging around, Lt. Havoc back to his old self.

Then I heard the new officer ask the Maj. If he could take that stupid mask off now. It was 73 degrees in that train, so he must've been dying. The Maj. Said go ahead, so he went ahead.

And I went completely numb- both out of rage and shock. Kimblee- the Crimson Alchemist, the one we had fought in Lab 5- was sitting freely amongst the military officers without a care in the world. The sight of him made me sick as I thought of Fish and all the other guys we lost.

I guess Col. Mustang didn't like him either, because he looked pissed off too. But before he could put the gloves on, the door opened and Col. Archer came in.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

"You know damn well there is. What's _he_ doing here, Archer?" Col. Mustang demanded.

"You mean Lieutenant Colonel Zolf J. Kimblee?" deranged Col. asked, sitting down next to the smirking convict.

Lieutenant Colonel? Instead of giving this guy a death sentence, they promoted him and re-instated him? Col. Archer went on to explain about how he was convicted of "crimes he didn't commit" and about how because of his actions, they were able to defeat Greed and his crew. The old question of how many promotions it took to become a raging lunatic sprang back to mind.

I didn't buy a single word of what this guy was saying. Apparently, Col. Mustang didn't either, but as he was about to say something, Col. Archer said he didn't want to hear it, since he and Col. Mustang were now the same rank and it would be stupid taking orders from someone your own rank.

So, the matter was dropped and the newly appointed Lt. Col. Kimblee went on sitting down, enjoying freedom. The sight of him making anybody sick.

Pen sucks. I'm gonna go find a pencil.

* * *

The whole "pen-pencil" thing was this: I wrote the entire first draft of the story in pencil, except for this entry, which was in pen. Afterwards, I went back to pencil. Easy to read.

Reviews are, as always, greatly appreciated.


	27. Entry 27

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

Don't own FMA- but I'd like to take over the military.

You'd think they'd let me take over for Bradley (a.k.a Pride)?

Just a thought.

* * *

Entry 27:

Got a new pencil. Really ain't that sharp, but whatever. It's lead.

Anyhoo, we got into Eastern HQ about three days ago, and I've been busy as hell- delivering reports, holding snap inspections, and throwing out orders like there's no tomorrow.

I swear, I'm getting good at this sergeant business.

For the most part, East HQ is a lot like Central. There's barracks and OP's and even a good ole' fashioned MG pit where we spend all of our time. Except for the sand, you'd never tell we were east.

But here's where the likeness ends. Because we also have foxholes and trenches that we roll into when we get artillery fire. And, believe it or not, we actually do. A _lot_. Sniper fire too. We don't take a whole lot of casualties, which is good, but the thing is, we still take casualties- and that's bad. We evac them by train, and the next day, the train brings in new ones.

The new routine. Yay.

Shadow and Castillo have been looking over old reports of Lab 5. Me, Smokey, and Regazzi have now joined them. From the notes we received from Sheska by a Dr. Tim Marcoh (may have mentioned him in here way back when, can't remember, though) we learned that their main research was in Beast-Man Chimeras (we found out the hard way how successful they were, in case you have forgotten) and the other half- in the Philosopher's Stone. The reason why Ed and Al went down there in the first place, but we don't blame them. They had come _so close_.

But I just remembered something: after the lab, they said they were giving up on the thing. I never gave it too much thought before, but now- it's interesting. Why give up? From Marcoh's reports, the design was flawless. Though the list of ingredients seems to be missing, we think that they may have actually made the Stone had they tried.

I wonder…

* * *

I'll have another entry up in a little bit.

Cool.


	28. Entry 28

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

Another day not owning the Alchemist called FullMetal.

A blast from the past entry now. Not as happy as it sounds.

Enjoy.

* * *

Entry 28:

Schmitty came back to the unit from the hospital today- and never made it off the train platform. I was asleep in my bunk at the time, so I never actually saw him, but Castillo told me all about it.

After another arty burst, we got the wounded on the next train. This one was carrying seven replacements, including- to all of our surprises- Schmitty, looking a little skinnier, but the same ole' Schmitty.

He hoped off the train and started falling out, but stopped to help a guy who had a serious leg wound back onto the train. He gently dropped the stretcher onto the rear car.

His reward?

A bullet through the kneecap that almost took off the lower part of his leg. He stumbled a little, and the doc on board grabbed him and dragged him onto the train as it was pulling out. It left with him cursing everybody from Heaven and Hell and anyone in between.

Almost _four whole months_ since the Lab 5 battle- and Schmitty didn't last back in the field for a full _minute._

That is what I call a major suckfest.

Hope he'll be OK.

* * *

That's all for now.

Review.


	29. Entry 29

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

Another side, another story- except the author does not own the theme to the story, also known as the FullMetal Alchemist.

I try to make my disclaimers fresh. Heh-heh.

Anyhoo, now things get a little interesting.

* * *

Entry 29:

The Elric brothers showed up on the outskirts of what was once Ishbal today. Scared the crap out of Lts. Havoc and Breda too, because they were trying not to let on they were there but got caught and tried to run, but Ed did some alchemy on the sand and buried them.

Lt. Havoc was OK with it, personally. Lt. Breda was another story altogether.

Anyhoo, Col. Mustang has the brothers personally joining the task force. I was happy for it- hell, having two really old-fashioned alchemists on our side could surely help, right? - but they were pissed as hell. I guess they really like to work solo.

Ed's apparently met Col. Archer during his stay at South HQ and I think his opinion of the not-so-good Col. is the same as all of ours.

And Ed got really mad when he heard about the situation in Lior. Turns out he was over here about a year ago and kicked out some old priest that was brainwashing the people into becoming his own personal army hell-bent on taking over the world. Ed never would have guessed that that would only make it _worse._

Win some, lose some, I guess.

Later, I was patrolling the corridors and overheard Ed and Col. Mustang arguing. Apparently, Col. Archer has FullMetal going on some top secret special ops. mission in the city and Col. Mustang was pissed off that Ed didn't go to him instead. The kid's response was that it was his fault that he didn't know about Lior in the first place and stamped off.

Hope he'll be OK.

The Fuhrer's making a surprise inspection tomorrow to see how we're doing. According to Regazzi, anyway.

Can't hurt to straighten out my uniform.

In any case.

* * *

Yeah, these past couple of entries have been rather… short, but hey, some big things are coming up soon, so get ready.

Reviews are cool, of course.


	30. Entry 30

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

So, let's see, I own a Gamecube, a DS, games… Oh, what a shock! I don't own FullMetal Alchemist!

Hee-hee. And go.

* * *

Entry 30:

One of the chimeras that escaped from Lab 5 was found dead in the compound today- or should I say, dead in Al's armor. From the word on the street, the Fuhrer got it personally with one of those sabers he's always carrying around. Brutal business- almost as bad as the famed "Barry the Chopper", who hacked his victims into itty bitty pieces.

Al's a wreck. Hell, I'd be too- who'd want a dead body bleeding out inside your armor?

The higher-ups were all there, minus Col. Archer and Lt. Col. Kimblee, the latter who was on some covert op thingin Lior. Lt. Hawkeye and W.O. Falman were yelling at Maj. Armstrong, saying that he had to have known something about it. What with all the investigating he and Col. Archer did over the Lab 5 crap. But the argument was stopped by none other than Al, who said that ole "Strong- Arm" had nothing to do with it, that he, Al, was hiding Marta- I'm guessing the bitch's name. He also said that fighting amongst ourselves would not solve any problems and for all of us to shut our pie-holes.

For a fourteen year old kid, he sure knows his stuff.

The matter was dropped and it was business as usual. Smokey and I had the unfortunate duty of carrying the damn thing to the morgue. The sheet Lt. Havoc had placed on her had fallen off and I saw her face. It was a sad one- kinda like my cousin's at her funeral. For a minute, I felt sort of sorry for her- she was just an innocent victim used in lab experiments- but, remembering that she was amongst those who had depleted our ranks back there, my sorrow faded to anger. I just dumped her body in and walked back to barracks.

You know, war is really funny. I've changed since I joined here. Seven months ago, someone told me that once a man becomes a part of war, all that kindness, all the church you had as a kid, all morality goes right out the window. At first, you can shake your head or something. "Bullshit", you can say, and move on to the steak. Nothing mind-provoking, whatever. But time wears on and you are no longer new and have seen a battle or two. And you think about the guys who are no longer with you- Fish, Gemini, Brig. Gen. Hughes, over a dozen others- and you think of the enemy that was the reason for that. And you no longer feel moral. You feel vengeance. You want revenge.

As much as I hate to admit it, that's what's happened to me.

No word from Ed's come in yet.

Hope he's OK.

* * *

Whew… typing that one handed is a bitch. My friend on the other end says "Hello" to all of you.

Review please, as they are this story's soul.


	31. Entry 31

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

FullMetal don't belong to me- but if Square Enix wanted me to hold on to it for a while, I guess I wouldn't mind.

I liked this entry. It was muy fun.

* * *

Entry 31:

A letter from Ed came in in the form of a boy from Lior. Al, Col. Mustang and his staff were all in the room discussing it. I was in the room getting a cup of coffee, so I had the fortune of overhearing a good portion of it.

Our Intel was right- Scar's got the whole city inside some sort of transmutation circle. Al muttered something about him, the soldiers, and the Philosopher's Stone that Lt. Hawkeye just happened to catch. Al looked around at all of us, caught. Then he bent his head and spoke as I took a sip of coffee:

"In order to create the Philosopher's Stone… you have to sacrifice human lives. In Scar's method, _thousands_ of lives.

I instantly spit out every morsel of coffee onto the floor in surprise. Hacking it all up, I excused myself from the room as Lt. Breda fainted and Lt. Havoc's cigarette fell out of his mouth. Afterwards, I felt numb with fear.

All the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place- Lab 5's research, the missing ingredients section from Marcoh's notes, the homunculi's human conquest, why Ed and Al gave up on the search- it all made sense now.

Scar was going to make the Stone.

And- realizing this with a sickening jolt- _we_ were gonna be the guinea pigs to create it.

I feel sick.

Mommy.

* * *

I loved this part in the anime. Breda just goes "eeeeeeeeeee" BOOM!

Anyhoo, reviews are good.


	32. Entry 32

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

Yeah, yeah, you know the mothersnoogin' drill- don't own anything with the words "full" or "metal" in them.

God, I'm _so _sorry this took so long to post, I've been really busy. It's still as good as ever… I hope.

Enjoy.

* * *

Entry 32:

Col. Mustang ordered Al to go into No-Mans-Land after his brother. Hope they'll be OK.

I told the other guys about the stuff Al had talked about. When I finished talking, there was as strong a silence as there was the night I got my promotion. But this time it wasn't a surprised silence- more like a, "oh crap, I'm gonna die," silence that I had read about in books as a kid. They were all wide eyed, mouths hanging opened, all numb as they realized that they had met the devil and it was now staring them cock-eyed in the face.

"Goddam…" Castillo said, finally breaking the silence.

And then, everyone started wigging out.

"NO WAY! NO FREAKING WAY! THIS ISN'T POSSIBLE!" Regazzi was screaming.

"How could the Fuhrer allow those scientists to conduct those experiments if they use those ingredients?" Smokey exclaimed, "That's not experimentation, that's genocide!"

"Unless…"

Shadow stopped in mid-sentence, tapping his glasses with his finger. I hate it when he does that.

"Unless?" I threw in.

"Unless either nobody told him… or nobody knew," he finished.

"Or he just didn't give a rat's ass. Ever think of that?" demanded Squeaker.

"C'mon, Bradley doesn't believe in the Stone," Shadow argued back.

"Well, someone higher up sure as hell does," said Castillo.

"What do you think we should do, Sarge?"

Regazzi and Squeaker looked at me steadily. I held my breath. This was one of those situations where the squad leader was counted upon to get them through it, where he needed to be brave, fearless, and have a good idea what he would do next to keep him and his men from dying a horrible bloody death.

That leader was me.

And, of course, I had absolutely no freaking clue as to what to do.

Just my luck.

So, all I said was, "Let's just get some sleep and prepare to move out tomorrow morning."

Bad move.

"What, are you _stoned?_ If what you said is true, then Scar wants to use _us_ to make the Stone!" Castillo bellowed angrily.

"I don't know about y'all, but I ain't giving up my life for Archer's game," replied Smokey.

I didn't have any ready answers. But I felt it all too. We had gotten ourselves into a sticky situation and a way out was hard to see. For now, we were trapped. I repeated my order, much to the grumble of everyone, mainly Castillo, but they all went to bed.

I couldn't sleep, of course- first time of that since the homunculi attack. So I decided that it couldn't hurt to patrol the corridors for a while, maybe bust some lowly private for being out of bed. It's actually a really fun thing to do. Sometimes, I bring Smokey with me, put him in one of Castillo's uniform, and make him look like a corporal, as to alert suspicion. It's one of the real pleasures and privileges of being a sergeant.

But tonight, there was none of that for me. I was too wrapped up in my thoughts of what I was supposed to do about this event. We were spared of having to strike at night by the Fuhrer, who suggested, against Col. Archer's ideas, that we go at day. I don't know who to hate _more_- the Col. for getting pissed off at us delaying our deaths a little longer, or the Fuhrer for sending us out in broad daylight. It's a close competition.

Loud, thundering footsteps soon reached my ears. Whirling around, I found Col. Mustang, Maj. Armstrong, and Lt. Hawkeye running towards the lower levels. Very odd, because a.) it was the middle of the night, and b.) lately, the Col. and the Maj. Seemed to hate each others' guts. But I ignored that for now.

"Colonel sir," I called out. He waved, both in response and signaling me to follow. I'm no expert on hand signals, but I do know that that meant trouble. I un-slung my rifle off my shoulder and followed after them.

Before long, we were at the basement and, not even knocking, Col. Mustang just barged in on a very surprised Col. Archer, overlooking a cage that I saw house several chimeras. The Col. looked like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Wow, that was _really _clichéd. Anyhoo-

"So, this is your little hideout," Col. Mustang said. Col. Archer looked pissed now, but said nothing.

We soon became aware of typing and saw a large, hunched man on a computer. Lt. Hawkeye raised her handgun and I, my rifle and we aimed it at him. The Lt. ordered hands up and turn around.

Slowly, he raised his hands, which were actually paws, and turned. I flinched in horror. It was a Beast-Man Chimera- the kind Greed had used. The body was huge and furry, kinda like that bear I had shot so long ago. The only thing about him that was human was his head, which was twisted upside down. If I hadn't been in the army for almost eight months, I think I would've thrown up right then.

I think the Lt. was shocked too, because she opened up with her handgun. Either her hands were shaking or the guy/thing was moving too fast, because she actually missed for the first time that I could recall. The chimera hid behind the wall and peered the bottom half of his head out.

"Please don't shoot. There's no need for that," it said in a raspy voice. I have no idea what he was whispering for- half the army would be awake by now, so he didn't have to worry about waking people.

Col. Mustang ordered Lt. Hawkeye to halt, saying it was OK. That's when Maj. Armstrong spoke for the first time that night, and gave us an identity- he was Shou Tucker, the former "Sewing-Life Alchemist" back when he was a human. And I just gaped at the cowering creature, in shock, amazement, and disbelief.

We've all heard the legend of Shou Tucker, of course. Supposedly, he got his State Alchemist license when he created a chimera that could talk. Turns out, that chimera was his wife. And then, two years later- about four years ago- he did the same thing to his daughter, but was caught and arrested. They were too late to save the daughter, and later they found her blown to bits. No one knew who it was until three years later, when Brig. Gen. Hughes, then still a lieutenant colonel, discovered that she was killed in the exact same way that Scar killed his victims. Anyway, Tucker was imprisoned and stripped of his license. But I had heard that he had been executed not long afterwards.

Well, here's proof right here that _that_ was a lie.

Col. Archer accused Maj. Armstrong of betraying him. The Maj. replied that he was never on his side to begin with, just acting like he was. Score one for ole' Strong-Arm.

Col. Archer wasn't done yet, however, and ordered Tucker to call out the chimeras. The former alchemist seemed hesitant, but did so anyway, and soon the four of us were surrounded by some of the creepiest wolf-creatures I had ever seen. Col. Archer and Tucker were making for the door, the former sneering at us.

"Over a decade ago, you were the hero of the Ishbal rebellion," he said to Col. Mustang, "now I have Lior. It's my turn for glory."

Suddenly, "Sergeant!" was heard. Me. _Crap_. I looked at Col. Mustang, pleadingly, but he just nodded sadly. And, although I'm not good with any body signals, I knew that was a sign to leave.

And so, I abandoned my C.O.s to their fates.

On the way back, Col. Archer was telling me about how they were traitors and deserved what they got. I was only listening to half of it. The rest of me was thinking that, after everything the Col., Maj., and Lt. had done for me, I still abandoned them to death in order to live.

_Jesus_, I hope they don't court-martial me for this.

* * *

Sorry again for the long delay. I hope you'll enjoy this. I made it longer than the last ones have been, so you may like it.

Reviews are, as usual, cool.


	33. Entry 33

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military

I don't own any alchemists, _especially_ not the FullMetal one.

Wow, it's good to be back in the swing of things. I've missed this story.

Anyhoo, on with the show.

* * *

Entry 33:

We moved out early in the morning to try and get a surprise jump on the enemy. Col. Archer's going to have the armor go around to the other side of the city and push in from there. At the same time, he would lead the first wave into the entrance of Lior and the two forces would push in and wipe them all out. A quick war, he called it.

We'll see how quick it is.

None of the staff was there with us. This means that Col. Archer was the only officer we actually knew enough about leading us. We were, again, trapped in an impossible situation.

We were dug in outside the city limits, waiting for Lt. Col. Kimblee to give us the signal to move in. With any luck, he already killed Scar and the rest of the operation would go off without all of us dying. Somehow, I couldn't make myself believe it.

Suddenly, we saw movement on the roof of the gates. I took out my binoculars and peered through at a man with dark skin, white hair, and a large X-shaped scar on his face.

_Scar…_

He dropped something outside of the city and then vanished. Upon further investigation, we discovered that the item dropped was the body of Lt. Col. Kimblee. Scar had once again murdered another State Alchemist. Though this one seemed more brutal than what happened to Brig. Gen. Gran- the Lt. Col. had a hole through his chest the size of my head. Col. Archer made no noise but the expression on his face was clear; if the legendary Crimson Alchemist could fail, what hope could we possibly have against them? But unfortunately, that didn't deter the good Col. and he ordered the first wave in- with my squad leading.

But because God doesn't abandon his children in their time of need, he sent us a savior in the form of Ed Elric. I was never so happy to see the little squirt; even if I _did_ have to crane my neck down to see him. He told us not to go into the city, and of what Scar had in store for us. But either Col. Archer didn't buy it or he just didn't care, because he completely blew ole' FullMetal off and ordered me to lead the way.

And right then, I did something I never thought I'd do in my time in the army- I disobeyed a direct order. I stood up, looked the Col. straight in the eye, and flat-out refused to go into that city. I had had enough of going along with this… this _sociopath_ to the point of where we were almost certain to die. I told him, in retrospect, to kiss my ass and find some new damn lackey to follow his suicide orders.

To say that Col. Archer was pissed off was an understatement. He screamed at me to get my ass into that city, but I once again refused. This craphole was not worth me getting killed over.

"You're facing demotion and court-martial when we get back!" he warned me.

I told him that that was a risk I was willing to take. I swear, I never saw my buddies- especially Castillo- look at me with such a look of respect and awe. They were proud- and so was I- that I was putting myself on the line to avoid having to face the inevitable. Col. Archer gave me one last furious look and ordered the rest of the first wave- almost 1,000 men- into the city, against Ed's protests.

No sooner had they left when, sure enough, a few seconds later, the whole damn city began glowing red. Soon, there a loud explosion like noise as the light began engulfing the whole city. That was followed by a sound I hope I never hear again- soldiers, hundreds of them, screaming for their mothers, for help, or just plain screaming. It was horrifying, like those movies they showed about this, but this was the _real thing_. It's true that soldiers can go mad in a battlefield and after a war, and this was the proof.

One of the soldiers in the second wave was about to go in, but Ed stopped him by putting up an alchemic wall. We were all forced to wait it out, trying to block the screams out of our ears. Don't know how much success anyone had with doing that; _I _sure as hell didn't.

Finally, it was over. The wall came down, and the city of Lior- Smokey's hometown- was gone. Completely, as though it was never there. But the screams were still there. It was hard to believe that there were still any survivors after that. I looked over to where Ed had been standing just a few minutes before and found that he was gone too. I was soon on my feet, ordering my squad to go in and start searching for the survivors and to place the dead in one shady area and the wounded in the other. I also ordered the medics to start working on and evacuating the wounded as soon as possible. Jeeps were called in immediately and we soon started working.

It was slow at first, but eventually, we found a good number of survivors- most severely wounded, but there were also a good number of minor wounds and even a couple that weren't wounded. The Jeeps began evacuating the seriously wounded immediately, with our help.

One guy that I had known since basic had had his leg sheared off above the knee. He was hopping on one foot over to the Jeep until I came over. I sat him down, tied a really tight bandage on the bottom of the stump, helped him back up, and half- carried him to the Jeep. I laid him down in the back and we shook hands. I said, "Have a good life," and he was gone. I was happy for him. For him, this whole nightmare was over.

We evaced Col. Archer after that. Now _he's_ in a world of hurt; pretty much all of the left side of his body- arm, leg, and face included- are just gone. He was still screaming when they got him out of there and I'll bet he's still screaming his lungs out now. The docs said that if he was too live, he would have to have automail limbs.

I don't know about them, but to _me_, it looks like it's gonna take a _lot_ of automail to put ole' Col. Humpty-Dumpty back together again.

Finally, the casualty list was conjured up. Amazingly, there were only 28 men known dead. Course, that's still a high number, but after watching and listening to _that_ mess? I would've figured that three times that many men were dead, if not even more than that. We also had 67 altogether wounded- 5 of those were officers, amongst them Col. Archer. So, all in all, pretty good numbers.

The only real blow to us was the missing- some 900 men were still unaccounted for. I had a sick feeling I knew where they were, but I was determined to prove myself wrong. As we began the search, the staff arrived to take over, including- and here I was overjoyed- Col. Mustang, Maj. Armstrong, and Lt. Hawkeye. They were OK! I breathed a huge sigh of relief. And from the look the Col. gave me, I was forgiven for leaving them. He knew I had no choice but to obey a superior and he forgave it. From that point on, I write that I will forever follow his command, even unto death.

But my relief was short-lived, however, when the Fuhrer showed up, looking more pissed off than I had ever seen him. Col. Mustang relayed the casualty list over to him, and swore that we wouldn't rest until they got to the bottom of what happened.

"And that obviously will not happen until you capture the person responsible," the Fuhrer ordered.

"Scar," Col. Mustang agreed, "Yes, sir."

The Fuhrer's next words brought shock and confusion to all of those who had a better sense than that:

"No Mustang," he said, "I mean FullMetal."

I was shocked. Hadn't this man heard that _Scar_ was the one who was setting up a transmutation array in the city? Didn't he know that _Scar _was the enemy? Why was he blaming the _brat?_

He stated that FullMetal had acted on his own, encountering a criminal that also knew destructive alchemy, and had concocted a reaction that cost hundreds of lives. Of course, anyone who had been with us before the battle knew that Ed had been standing with _us_ when the light went off.

The Fuhrer ordered a full search for him, Col. Mustang in control. He gave a single order: Capture him and, if given any trouble, take him out.

I suddenly didn't like him as much as I did before, and for once, I was glad to see the backside of him.

Col. Mustang got Lt. Havoc's platoon- mine- for the search, and ordered my squad to take the lead. I knew he didn't want to kill Ed, but I knew we'd do it anyway, because we were ordered to.

I just hope we'd think twice before that time actually came.

* * *

I liked this chapter. I really did.

Now, an authors note: I had initially ended the series part of the story here, but that was before the Lior battle had ended and I saw everything else. Therefore, the next chapters you will read, until near the end, are entirely new. They'll surprise me just as much as they would do you.

Reviews are, of course, muy cool.


	34. Entry 34

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military Private

I own not FullMetal Alchemist or his brother. Either Square Enix does, or Emily stole them along with Mustang and Russell for her own personal needs.

"shudder" Let's just get on with the story, shall we?

-----

Entry 34:

We've been searching through the East for a little over a day now. The desert is gone- man, am I glad for _that_ one- and we're in woods. _My_ woods.

That's right- we're near Risembool, my hometown. I'm nervous, excited, and scared at the same time. The first two were being back home and possibly seeing my family again, the latter for what I would have to do if I saw Ed again.

I had my squad spread out over several yards of the wood. Castillo was in charge of the replacements while I had Smokey, Shadow, Regazzi, and Squeaker with me. Our rifles were pointed this way and that, seeing if anything was coming our way.

I felt awful. All day, I was wondering why the hell we were out here looking when it wasn't even Ed's fault. It was Scar's! Hell, it was even Archer's!

Anyhoo, we continued prodding through the forest when all of a sudden, we heard a gunshot. I was right alongside the stream, so when it went off, and we all ducked, I got a cascade of water hitting me as I fell. My uniform was completely soaked.

And I had just gotten it dry-cleaned too.

Pissed now, and also concerned, I ordered my squad to hold up here while I went to check it out. Someone had just fired a shot. Did that mean trouble, as it almost always did? I was suddenly reminded of the night when Brig. Gen. Hughes died and I rushed in to see the damage. Hopefully this time was a different ending.

Suddenly, I found myself face-to-face with a short kid in a red cloak. Ed. Crapfest. Like a robot, I whirled my rifle around and aimed it at his chest. Neither of us made a move. I felt like I was in an old western, with a gun battle. Any minute now, a tumble weed was gonna roll by. Finally, Ed sighed.

"You too, Scotty?" he asked, almost disappointingly.

Like I wanted to be hunting him down? "C'mon, Ed, don't make me have to do this," I said softly, almost in a whisper, "I'm like you, I'm Risembool true and blue. Just come quietly, we just wanna talk."

He didn't answer me. Suddenly, he clapped his hands and brought them to the ground. I quickly rolled out of the way as a shockwave tore through the rocks. But by the time I picked my head up to (unfortunately) take the downing shot, he had vanished.

I kicked myself. Literally. Course, I was also still face down in the mud, so _that_ didn't end pretty. Anyhoo-

It turns out that the gunfire came from Lt. Havoc. What happened was, he and Sgt. Maj. Fuery had cornered Ed, who had his automail hand on the Lt.'s gun. And we all know what happens if he pulled the trigger. Which he did, due to Al suddenly bursting out of the ground and scaring the crap out of them. So now, Lt. Havoc's hand is all busted up, and Fuery took some shrapnel to his forehead. They were both evaced to the hospital in Central after getting bandaged up.

Doesn't get much worse… OK, I lied. It can.

We also picked up a couple of prisoners along the way- Winry Rockbell and, to my surprise, our beloved Sheska. Both of them had heard about the Lior incident (I gotta say, news travels fast) and were looking for Ed to save him. Now their hands were tied and they were being led pretty much by gunpoint with us.

My group had re-grouped with the main body and we were now proceeding through the woods. Lt. Hawkeye was trying to interrogate them, to no avail. Winry was shouting at the Col., but he paid them no mind. Sheska said he wouldn't care- all he was concerned with was promotions.

_I_ still have respect for him.

That is, I did until I heard Winry scream, "Tell me Roy, is this the kind of devotion you served when you killed my mom and dad?"

Whaaat! How had I never heard _that_ one before? My eyes were glued onto Col. Mustang, who remained as stone as ever. I couldn't believe my ears. I had heard that Winry's parents were killed in the Ishbal campaign (they were doctors) and hell, I even knew the State had executed them for treating wounded enemies. But the Col.-?

Winry looked around to try to pin the blame on someone else, and before I could hide, her eyes found me: Scotty Rodyle, the ole former track runner that she used to watch as a kid and have a huge crush on before moving on to boys her own age.

…Yes, it happened. Let us never mention it again. _Ever_.

"So, Scotty, I guess you're a military dog now, too?" she spat bitterly. I wasn't surprised; I knew I'd get something like this sooner or later.

"I'm just doing a job, m'am," I replied reluctantly. That's how I had been trained- no show of emotion or acknowledging an old… well, I can't really say "friend". More like family acquaintance.

Bad move, apparently. She started screaming at me. Something about how I could work with murderers and thieves, with 'dogs of the military', her grandma's favorite speech. Made me wonder if Ed got a talking to like this when _he_ joined up. She went on to ask how I could track down a friend and kill him when he didn't even do anything wrong.

Which she was right about, but I couldn't let _her_ know that.

I told her, rather rudely, that she just wanted to save him so they could make with the loving later. Her response was to smack me upside the head with her wrench. I mean, her fist I could understand, but a _wrench_? No notice or nothing, just BAM! and I was on the ground, clutching the already swelling bruise on the back of his head. Damn, that _hurt_!

We kept walking for a while. I was growing dizzier by the second- that wrench really did a number on me. I felt like I could fall asleep at any moment- which probably would've been a bad thing, as I probably wouldn't have woken up afterwards. That's the thing with concussions- you fall asleep, it would be the last thing you ever did.

Course, Castillo would be happy, because that would put him in charge of the squad.

Up ahead, there was a commotion. Looking up, I once again saw the little squirt known as Ed Elric- walking on a giant rolling ball headed right for us, his little (well, not really, but you know what I mean) brother Al in tow. It had just plowed through Castillo's element and continued until Col. Mustang raised his gloved hand.

BOOM! The explosion was damn-near deafening as the fireball hit the boulder and blew it up. Ed went flying and landed at our feet. He got on his knees and started coughing the dust out of his lungs.

"You know running just makes you look guilty," Col. Mustang said.

Ed and Al looked up and saw us all standing there. Winry called out to both of them. I don't think Ed was expecting _her_ to show up. But he got over it.

He told the Col. that he was running because he knew we'd chase after them, and that dogs always run when they're being chased. Col. Mustang came back with how a trained dog never disobeys his master's orders.

"Then I'm a stray," Ed finished with.

Oh, for the love of God, Ed.

Lt. Hawkeye broke in, saying how we're not after him, we just wanna know the truth about what happened in Lior. Which is true, in all accounts, but you couldn't convince Ed that. He set a geyser off, showering us and effectively ruining Col. Mustang's gloves. He then proceeded to run off with Al.

Squeaker raised his rifle to try to take a pot shot, but I stopped him. I really didn't want to have to explain to dear ole Granny Rockbell why Ed needed _two_ automail legs. Maj. Armstrong answered this one by firing one of his earth spikes from the ground. Then the Col., working off a pack of matches he had gotten off of Lt. Havoc right before he was evaced, lit one and the flames flew around the rock-missile, making an even cooler explosion than would ordinarily.

Needless to say, we were all impressed. The Col. and the Maj. went on to explain how it all worked, but putting all that here would fill these pages up pretty good, and between you and me, I don't have that many left. Ed, recovering from the shock, complemented the effectiveness, saying they probably put it to great use in Ishbal.

Ouch. Talk about a low blow.

Col. Mustang took another "match-bomb" to them and in doing so, cut off their escape route. With nowhere to go, Ed and Al just sat there, preparing to move, as Col. Mustang walked up to them.

Suddenly-

"STOP!"

This came from Winry, and was loud enough to shatter a man's eardrums. She fell onto her knees and pleaded softly for the Col. to stop. Nobody really knew what to do next, so no one did anything. Finally, the Col. sighed.

"I once had to execute two people- two doctors."

He went on to tell us about how he was forced to kill Winry's parents just because they were treating wounded on both sides, and the ones on the Ishbalan's side were coming back to kill out boys. He then went on to say how he felt so bad, he even went so far as to almost kill himself, but deemed himself too cowardly to pull the trigger. As such, he took a vow to someday reach a position where he wouldn't have to follow unnecessary orders, and he still kept true to that even now. He told Ed that he wasn't chasing him to capture him- he was just extremely pissed off.

"Now why the hell did you two run without ASKING FOR MY HELP FIRST!" That last was screamed at them.

OK, so I was worrying for nothing. Great loss of lunch there, Col.

Maj. Armstrong stepped forward next and asked one last time- what happened in Lior? Ed stood up to speak, but it was Al that told us something none of us ever believed possible:

"Fuhrer King Bradley… is a homunculus."

Yet again, I froze. Yet again, I found myself in a position where I didn't know what the hell to believe anymore. So many things have gone from crap to bone to wasp in the last couple of days… and I wonder how in the hell _I_, of all people, got dragged into this.

W.O. Falman put his foot forward, asking if they were talking about artificial beings, trying to piece together all of this new info. Col. Mustang and Maj. Armstrong apparently didn't – or couldn't- believe it, for they came back with all the ways he couldn't be. Al came back with some pretty convincing evidence- the Fuhrer's eye- the one under the eye-patch- held the Ouroborus tattoo- hence why we couldn't see it. And then, Al hit us with another bombshell- Col. Douglas, the Fuhrer's secretary, was a homunculus as well.

During the talking, I became aware that Castillo's element- and the rest of the search unit as well- had joined up with us. Maj. Armstrong whispered to Col. Mustang that he would take the units- my squad included- back to Central, to meet up with the Col. He agreed.

And so, after much complaining- and being freaked out by Maj. Armstrong taking his shirt off- we packed it up and fell back to Central.

So much for seeing my family.

-----

Thar she blows!

Heh-heh.

Yeah, there's something wrong with the normal page breakers I put up here, so these little dashes will have to do.

Now, the bad news to you faithful readers: After this, the story only has about ten chapters left.

Maybe less.

Just a heads up.

Review please.


	35. Entry 35

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military Private

I don't own FullMetal, if I did, I guarantee you, Hughes would still be in his office, showing off pictures of his daughter to all who dare come by. After finally seeing most of the episodes he was in, I can now _truly_ say he was indeed one hell of a guy.

Enjoy this chapter- I did as well.

-----

Entry 35:

Back in Central, we immediately went back into our old habit of doing absolutely nothing. But there was something different to it this time- everyone was wound up too tight, you could tell. This time, the boredom was killing us. No one could stand sitting still; they wanted to know what the next move would be, how we would all eventually make it out of this. The wait was killing us worse than any battle could.

The thing the guys in my squad were waiting for: Col. Mustang to come back from his meeting with the Fuhrer. He was going directly to him with the info. But it was growing tense; how we would fair still remained to be seen.

I grew so restless that I finally decided to do something I should've done a while ago: visit Brig. Gen. Hughes' grave.

I grabbed my rifle (I never felt safe without it), donned my cap, and told Castillo to take over the squad while I went for my walk. As usual, whenever I gave him a direct order, he began nagging me about details and the like, but I just walked out. I was just too damn tired to deal with it today.

Sooner than later I found myself at the graveyard. I felt in my pocket, making sure the object I had inside was still there. Then I took a deep breath and I walked in.

I hated being in there- I dunno, I've just had some really bad experiences with graveyards. Ever since my grandma died, I've just never liked to go near one, not even to put paper on them and move crayon over it to inscribe the name. The Brig. Gen.'s death was the first time I had been in one since then, so it had obviously, as I had written before, been hard for me.

Before I made it to my objective, I paused for a moment at the grave of Brig. Gen. Gran, the old Iron-Blood Alchemist that was killed all those months ago by Scar. That now seemed like a million years ago. I gaze down and remembered being appalled when they brought the body back from East City- his head had been completely blown apart, blood pouring out the eyes and ears as well as the back of the head. I always hoped to just have it be instant and clean, and after seeing that sight, I kept fast to that.

When Brig. Gen. Gran died, I found it really hard to mourn for him- I only really knew him by sight and by name. Since he was killed literally weeks after my arrival, I never really got time to see him. What I _did_ know about him, however, wasn't all that helpful for my mourning- he was a ruthless soldier, ready to kill at any and all cost, not caring about how many men he lost in the process. He was the man behind a lot of stuff: the Ishbal massacre, Tucker's experiments, and, judging by Marcoh's notes, Lab 5. Just the thought of that battle, of the guys we lost, made me turn away and continue with my path.

Finally, I was at my objective: the gravestone with the words "Maes Hughes" etched on the front. Immediately, I felt tears swelling up again, but once again I kept my cool as I stared down at the grave of my late C.O.

He must've known; the thought kept hitting my head ever since Al told me about the Fuhrer and Col. Douglas. He must've found that out, or something close to it, and that was why they killed him. Now that we know, would they see us as a threat? No; there's no way he could pull that off. Come on: an entire squad of roughly twelve men just suddenly found dead outside a telephone booth? Not even a goddam _homunculus_ would dare pull that off- too suspicious. But now, all bets are off. It's definitely too risky to keep us around. Likewise, keeping a homunculus in command, more guys will get torn up by wars.

I don't know about you, but I think we've lost enough guys these past few months.

So, we're gonna do it. Deep in horse manure or not, we were gonna finish Brig. Gen. Hughes work or die trying. We would finally avenge the good Brig. Gen.

But for now, I just lay a package by his feet. Then, I did something I rarely ever did for him when he was alive- I stood straight, feet together, and pulled off a real, honest, heart-felt salute. And then I walked away.

And inside the package I lay at his feet were the pictures of his daughter Elycia that he took.

_Every single one of them._

Me and Smokey had found them all cleaning out his desk. I figured he might want them back

When I got back to HQ, Castillo came up right away and told me that the Col. had been looking for me. He needed my help with something he and Lt. Hawkeye were gonna do.

Oh God. Why do I get the feeling I'm gonna be in a whole lot of trouble?

-----

Three guesses what Mustang needs him for.

Hughes- may you forever more rest in peace.

I did the thing with Gran because I never really got in-depth with him before.

And that's all.

Review please.


	36. Entry 36

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military Private

I don't own FullMetal Alchemist, and I think he's too whiny for my liking.

And here we go: the beginning of the end.

-----

Entry 36:

Well, my squad's going back to war in the North- and this time, I'm not going with them.

Something a _tad_ more important has come up.

After Castillo told me that Col. Mustang wanted to see me, I packed this journal away and went there as fast as I could, wondering how the meeting with the Fuhrer had gone and sweating as to what he wanted me to do.

I walked in and immediately saluted. One look at him told me news that we had been expecting for a while- the good ole' Col. had finally been promoted to Brigadier General. He returned the salute and motioned for me to sit down, which I did.

"Sergeant," he said to me, "I'm sorry to have to do this, but we're gonna have to put your squad back into the field. A rebellion in the North needs to be squandered, and I've been ordered to lead my division out there."

The words were completely unexpected: combat. With all that had just happened, I couldn't believe they would be sending us out again so soon. But then, I realized it made sense- this was Bradley's way of silencing us, by sending us out to the front to get killed.

Brig. Gen. Mustang then asked me about my men. I told him they were fine, which was definitely true. Guys like Smokey and Shadow, I could trust with anything. He asked me if they could handle themselves in the field and take any orders. I told them that we would fight without hesitation under a good leader.

"Good," he told me, "because they're gonna have to go on without you."

And right here, I knew things were about to get even worse for me. "Sir?"

Brig. Gen. Mustang looked at Lt. Hawkeye, then stood up and looked out the window.

"I need your help, Rodyle," he said finally.

He was going after the Fuhrer. He was finally gonna take care of him. And he wanted Lt. Hawkeye and me to provide escort. It was gonna be a risky business- the assault force was going to go on ahead, with recently promoted Lt. Col. Armstrong leading them and Lt. Havoc and Sgt. Maj. Fuery, both only partially healed from the wounds they got in the woods, going disguised as the Brig. Gen. and the Lt. They were the bait. In the meantime, the three of us would sneak into inner Central towards the Fuhrer's mansion. Lt. Hawkeye would distract them while Brig. Gen. Mustang snuck in and do the deed. I would wait with the car we would drive about six blocks away, waiting for the radio signal to go and pick them up. Then we would drive the hell out of there and wait for the next events.

This would happen in about a week and a half, when the Fuhrer would be leaving to go to his son Selim's birthday. The strike force would be leaving tonight, and everyone had been bulletined already. This would probably the most risky thing any soldier had ever pulled off, and the possibility of us getting out alive was about 16 percent.

Hell, I figured my death percentage was at about 8 already, so that just meant I had twice as much of a chance.

Brig. Gen. Mustang looked at me with that glare I was already all too familiar with. "I won't lie, Rodyle: this is dangerous. Even if we do make it out of there, there's still a chance we'll be executed by the State- this isn't exactly the most loyal thing a man does for the president. If you want out, now's your last chance to say so."

I pondered my options. There weren't too many: either go to the Northern Front and probably get killed, or go after a crazed homunculus and probably get killed. The odds just didn't seem to like me; they never had, of course, so why should I be complaining _now_? So my mind turned to the things that convinced me to go: my buddies, the Northern Front, a sniper who has a bullet with my name written all over it (I'm such an optimist, aren't I?). And then the reasons to take Bradley down: the guys we lost in Lab 5, Brig. Gen. Hughes, the guys we lost in Lior, the guys we lost in Ishbal and the Ishbalans, and any other men lost in past wars and for the country in future years.

Needless to say, I think those reasons beat a sniper bullet any day.

Besides, if it wasn't risky, then I'm not a soldier, right?

So, right away, I said, "I'm in."

So, two hours later, I stood in the compound and watched as the unit packed it up and began hauling it for the North. And for the first time, I sat on the sidelines and said good-bye.

Saying good-bye to Regazzi and Squeaker was a hard thing to do- they were best friends, the heart and soul of the squad, taking over as jokesters after we lost Blake and Waverly. Regazzi, who had been my friend since I had joined up, shook my hand, that big grin on his face. Squeaker, the buck-toothed former replacement, slapped me on the back. I held back my tears and pulled both of them into a big bear hug.

Castillo was up next. Right before we shook hands, I told him to take care of the squad and try to get them all back in one piece. And it was weird- for the first time, he nodded, didn't smirk, didn't argue. He knew what I was trying to do. Right then, I think he _finally_ accepted me for the team leader I was. We shook hands, our eyes never leaving each other, before he nodded and walked away.

Next on my list was Shadow, one of the best friends I would ever have ever. Everything I had been through with him came back, and a few tears indeed came out as I said good-bye to my dear alchemist friend. As we shook hands and hugged, I noticed he looked a little thinner, a little paler, but he still smiled his smarty- pants smile. He wished me good luck and then walked away.

And finally, there was Smokey. My best friend in the whole damn world Smokey. The Smokey that, from day one, stayed by my side as we fought court martials and chimeras, bad pranks and enemy soldiers, superior officers and homunculi. He had forever left an impression on me as I had him, and he was special to me- more than my friend, more than my brother, hell. I knew him better than anyone I had ever known in my entire life, and vice versa. I can't even _begin_ to imagine what this entire nightmare of an experience would've been like if I hadn't found him here.

Before we parted ways, we shared one final serious conversation.

"So, you're really gonna do this?" he began.

"Yeah… I guess I kinda gotta now," I shrugged. He shrugged. We both grinned, because it reminded of us of the day I got promoted. Then his smile left.

"This is gonna be rough, man. I mean, why _you_? Haven't you suffered enough of this homunculi crap? Just come with us."

But I stood firm. "We've lost enough men because of them, don't you think?" I came back with.

He knew I was referring to our old squad mates, old C.O., and the guys in Ishbal and Lior. He nodded.

Then, he gave me _his_ bit of bad news:

"You know… I got my orders an hour ago. Meaning after this whole mess is done… I'm going home."

I looked at him, all stunned. He shrugged again, "or at least what I'll call home until someone gets around to re-building Lior."

Then, he did something I'll never forget; he reached into his pocket, pulled out a piece of paper, and pressed it firmly into my hands. When I opened it, I almost broke down again- it was an address and phone number. I looked back up again as he continued.

"That's where I'll be staying, and that's my number. _Promise_ me you'll call any chance you get, and come visit when you get out. Clear?"

I smiled and sniffed in a tear.

"Do you even need to _ask_, man? Of _course_, I'll look you up," I put the sheet in my pocket, grabbed his hand tight in a brotherhood handshake, and pulled him into a hug. We both must've looked pretty queer, but I didn't care. We were parting ways; after all this time, the Dynamic Duo was finally splitting up. Both of us were crying a little, nervous that we would never see each other again, neither one of us wanting to let go.

But in the end, we did. The whistle rang, the guys waved good-bye one final time, and before I knew it, I was waving to the trucks as they pulled my best friends away.

And for the first time since I had come to Central, I truly felt alone.

The thoughts were weighed in all of our minds- would any of us ever see each other again? Maybe. And half- OK, all- of me wanted to go with them. But they had their own path to follow.

And I… I finally had mine.

-----

Like Hughes' funeral, I almost did cry when I wrote the Scotty-Smokey farewell scene.

They're _not_ gay, for all you sickos that might read this- they've been through hell and back, forging a bond earned only by the time they've shared together and the crap they've seen.

Yes, this is a good-bye scene- the squad mates, unfortunately, don't play much of a big role from here on in, so we won't be seeing them as much. So say good-bye for now.

And God, I apologize if Mustang talks a bit OC like. Maybe it's just me; tell me what you think.

Well, that's all for now. I'm trying to finish this story up before I go back to school on the 1st, so you can expect this story to end soon.

Review please.


	37. Entry 37

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military Private

I don't own FullMetal- the Gate does own his arm and leg, but the rest either belong to the military, Emily, Winry, or Square Enix, take your pick.

I'll warn you now- the ending to this chapter will be different. So brace yourself.

That said, enjoy- and remember to review afterwards.

-----

Entry 37:

Tonight's the night- the night we finally take down the homunculus Bradley. I'm scared, nervous, excited, anxious, happy, and terrified pissless- all at the same time. If you didn't think that was physically possible, well, now you know.

We began the operation early in the morning, with Brig. Gen. Mustang, under the guise of Lt. Havoc, being discharged from the hospital. Apparently, he had fooled them. News from the front told us they had taken casualties, but were still holding strong. That was good news- as long as they believed us there, then we were pretty much ghosts here.

Of course, all of Central command seemed to have realized that the Brig. Gen. wasn't creating a picnic over there. Maj. Gen. Hakuro's detachment has been sent out to "silence" us.

Can't silence what isn't _there_, now, can he?

We left the hospital. I was the only one still in my uniform- the other two were dressed in civilian clothing. Even as a civi, Lt. Hawkeye never puts her hair down. I cursed mentally- Regazzi always wanted to know what she looked like with her hair down.

Later, me and Lt. Hawkeye were sitting outside the bar, waiting for the Brig. Gen. to come out with some sort of building plan for the Fuhrer's wine cellar. Personally, I didn't sign up for this to sample the President's booze storage, but to each his own. The Lt. was deeply engrossed in the day's newspaper main page, while I was engrossed in the Funnies.

Come on- who can resist reading about the family from Xenotime and their crazy adventures?

After about three hours, the Brig. Gen. came out and changed back into his civilian clothing. He told us that the blueprints were accurate and that the Fuhrer was indeed going home today. Something inside of me grinned. It was _on_.

"Something wrong?"

Lt. Hawkeye was still caught up in the papers. I looked up from my little perch.

"It says that the Elric brothers were captured this morning," she said after a while.

Brig. Gen. Mustang's facial expression didn't change, but I could almost hear the gears in his brain working. I sighed, put the Funnies down, and reached for my rifle.

Looks like we were making a detour.

But when we got to HQ, we realized that everything was under control. Bright blue lights told us that the ole FullMetal Alchemist was at work, busting his ass to get out of there. We were not needed. We began to drive away when suddenly-

BAM! Something hit our hood. I grabbed my rifle automatically and aimed it at the figure, but relaxed when I realized it was Ed. Didn't see _that_ coming.

Before long, he was riding in back with the Gen. Lt. Hawkeye was driving, and I was sitting in the passenger seat. At first, Ed had been reluctant to come with us but realized we weren't after him and settled down.

He and Brig. Gen. Mustang began talking. I can't remember the extent of the conversation, as there were too many words that were said, but I remembered them talking about how the Brig. Gen. had to do this, and that Ed couldn't come with him. Ed had his own duty, like I had mine. We would be the ones avenging Brig. Gen. Hughes- he would make sure no more homunculi would spawn from here on in.

Finally, we dropped him off. Me and the Lt. sat in the car and watched them say good-bye. How it seemed reluctant to be near each other at first, yet each did it with a smirk on their faces. Ed's gaze fell on me and in that moment, we held our own silent good-bye. And then, like the wind, FullMetal disappeared.

We continued until we finally reached the corner where I was supposed to wait. I took a deep breath- this was it. Now or never. Brig. Gen. Mustang gave me one last reassuring nod and then took off.

Lt. Hawkeye and I sat in stony silence for a few minutes. I think both of us were wondering how our loyalty had got us this far into Hell.

"Are you OK, Sergeant?" she asked me.

"Yes m'am," was my answer.

"I'm not." She said, which surprised me- the _Lt_. was having doubts? "To tell you the truth, I've never been more scared. But that's what makes us do what we do; fear. Remember that, Sergeant- great things are done by the most cowardly people."

I nodded. Not sure if I got it, but I tried to get it. She put her hand on my shoulder, wished me luck, and left just as suddenly as Ed had.

Which leaves me where I am right now- sitting in a car, snacking on a box of wafers, writing in this journal, just waiting. Lt. Hawkeye's words keep coming back to me- could I do great things, me being who I am? Probably- hell, I'm a _Sergeant_, for Chrissakes. That _has_ to mean _something_.

And the others- Brig. Gen. Mustang, Lt. Hawkeye, Smokey, Shadow, Castillo, and all the others- they were all doing things in the face of tremendous fear. And the guys that were no longer with us- Brig. Gen. Hughes, Fish, Gemini, Schmitty, Boozer, Waverly, Blake, and all the others- they had all done the same. Even if their way of doing it didn't get them back in one piece, or in one case, alive. But they still did it- and we're still doing it.

Because it's who we are. We're soldiers. We're not heroes, we're not medal winners… we're just _there_. In ugly situations on an everyday basis, where one wrong move could get someone sent home with his leg shot off, or, even worse, in a bag. We do what's right for the world, with the feverent hope that it doesn't come back and bite us in the ass. And the best part about it is- we do it _together_.

I've only been a soldier eight and a half months, but that's all the time I've needed to form the best bonds a man could have with others. Everything I've been through, I've been able to handle it because through it all, I've never been alone. Whether it be my squad mates, or, as like now, my superior officers, I've never had to do anything, face anything alone.

I guess with any war and any death situation, I guess the only thing you could hope for is a band of guys you love like your brothers and a group of superiors that you trust more than anyth


	38. Entry 38

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military Private

I don't own the alchemist of the FullMetalness.

Short entry, here you go.

-----

Entry 38:

"He's waking up!"

That was the first sentence I heard. My eyes felt like cement- they didn't wanna open. Bright light was the first thing that I saw and for a minute, I finally thought I was in God's Paradise. But then I saw a man- the chief doc in the Central Hospital. And I knew from personal experience that that man would _never_ get into Heaven.

So, needless to say, my dream was dashed.

"Sergeant, can you hear me?" he asked, holding his fingers up, "how many fingers do you see?"

I looked, but the damn room just didn't seem to want to stand still. Neither did his hand.

"Um… thirty-seven?" I asked groggily. At least I think that's the number I gave him.

He looked at his fingers for a second, then looked at me as though he had never quite seen anybody as stupid as me. He stood up and said, "OK, up the morphine dosage."

He left, and another man, one of the medics, looked at me.

"Hey man, take it easy," he said soothingly, "It's OK, Mac. You're going home."

I was all confused. What happened to the mission? Brig. Gen. Mustang… Lt. Hawkeye… did we do it? Did we-

Wait a minute… did he just say I was going home?

-----

Yeah, that's it.

How did he end up like this? You'll see next entry.

New update: There are about five entries left. Just a heads up.

Review please.


	39. Entry 39

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military Private

Alchemy doesn't belong to me, neither do any alchemists, including, but not limited to, the FullMetal Alchemist.

Re-cap of what happened in between Entries 37-38. Enjoy.

-----

Entry 39:

Well, it's finally over- the world is homunculi-free. Bradley's been shut down and the good ole' Amestris Parliament is back in session. With them in power, I don't think we'll be in too many wars from here on in.

As for me, I'm going home. Medical discharge. Apparently, I'm of no more use to the State in the condition I'm in, so they're sending me home for good.

Guess you're wondering how that happened, eh? Well, I remember now, so let's re-cap:

When last I left off, I was sitting in the car, writing in this journal. Enjoying my wafers, listening to the classics radio selection. I was just about to finish my entry when all of a sudden I heard a **WHAM**!

I immediately picked my head up. Whatever it was, it sounded mechanical. However, there was nothing there, not a soul. My eyes darted all across that dark street, but still nothing.

So, I just shrugged it off and went back to finish off that last word, but no sooner did I look back down then I heard another **WHAM**! I looked up again, and this time, I saw something-or some_one_- really big going across the street. The way it/he walked kinda sounded like how Ed walked (the whole, one leg real, the other metal walk.).

Carefully, not to make any sudden movements, I closed my journal, the last word still unfinished, and stuffed it in my front vest pocket. Then I grabbed my rifle, aimed it straight at this thing, and switched the headlights on full beam.

The next part is a sight I will never forget- a giant frikin' metal man, one half normal, the other half completely made of automail, standing right in the middle of the street. The mechanized arm was a double-barrel, as it could switch between normal arm and machine gun. When I turned those lights on, the head turned towards me and I saw that the human side had taken quite a beating that only a grenade could deliver, his face blood-streaked and a couple teeth missing in a wide, psychotic grin towards me.

"What the _hell_?" Those were the only words I could muster to say aloud, petrified at the sight of he/it. Robo-Boy laughed a purely mechanical laugh, and right then, I began to recognize it. The face, the style, the psychotic look in its eyes… it looked all too familiar…

"Colonel… Archer?"

Whoever said officers didn't take steroids had obviously been stone _drunk_. Col. Archer looked like he had been hit with a truck and the truck had fused itself with the entire right half of his body. Whoever did the automail surgery had to have been drunk as a skunk; who _else_ would turn ole' Col. Looney- Tune into G.I. Uber-Joe? I wouldn't have been surprised if, when the guy opened his mouth, a machine gun would pop out and blow me away-

Crap. I _hate_ it when I'm right. The thought had barely crossed my mind when, lo and behold, Robo-Archer (as I have christened him) opened his mouth and a mini-MG popped out, aimed at the car.

This meant, of course, bad news for me. I cursed (a really bad one, for all those virgin ears out there.) and literally kicked the door off its hinges and barreled out. As I ran for the corner, I turned to fire my rifle and as I pivoted left to fire, the MG fired as well.

What felt like an iron croquet mallet slammed into my left leg three times. At the same time, my bullets slammed against the MG, which I think jammed the gun permanently in his mouth, cause he couldn't get the damn thing back in. I collapsed behind the corner, moaning in pain and grabbing my leg, when I heard a motor start and before I knew it, Robo-Archer had stolen my ride and driven clean away.

And my wafers were still in there.

I would've kicked myself right then, but with a shot-up leg, I decided against it. I then proceeded with checking the wounds. There was a bullet hole right below the knee, another one right above it (the knee), and the third had dug itself into my hip. There were no exit wounds for any of them, meaning I had three pieces of lead stuck in my leg.

Would you believe that this was _always_ the leg I was spraining in track as well?

Probably not.

Breathing heavily, and swearing worse than _Boozer_ did when he got shot, I grabbed my knife and, howling with pain, tore the three bullets out. That done, I took off my coat and wrapped it tightly around my leg. Hopefully, that would hold long enough for the docs to save it. I hear automail is good, but the operation itself is a bitch and a half.

And frankly, the only people I would trust with that were either the Rockbells or Gemini.

When I had finished with my wounds, I checked my rifle. Empty. I had fired my last rounds into Robo-Archer's gun. I reached into my holster for the handgun my father had given to me just before I shipped here, knowing it was freshly loaded.

My hand only grasped thin air.

I cursed. The keyhole had my handgun- it was in the car.

So, in the space of fifteen minutes, I lost the car, I lost the wafers, the extraction part of the plan was blown to hell, I had three bloody holes in my leg, my rifle was empty with no more ammo for it, and now, to top it all off, my handgun that my father had told me to take care of with my life was now in the hands of a metal, demented former C.O.

And here I thought my luck couldn't _get_ any worse.

It took me about twenty minutes for me to get off my ass and stand up, with me bitching and moaning the entire time. Took me twice as long to take my first _step_. Thankfully, the rest came at a good pace, so I soon was limping towards the Fuhrer's mansion- to the Hornet's Nest.

I lied. My luck _could_ get worse.

Along the way, I got shot at. OK, a _lot_. I guess the guards finally realized we were here instead of up North. None of them were expert marksman- for once, it _really_ didn't break my heart- so I could dodge them. But it really pissed me off because I couldn't shoot back- with no fresh ammo, my rifle was now only being used as a walking stick. I was practically a sitting duck.

_Damn_, the things I would've given for my good ole handgun right about then.

_Damn_ that Robo-Archer.

It was around two in the morning when I finally decided to take a pit stop. My leg was getting pretty much numb by now, and I was afraid I was going into shock- I hear that's what happens when you get wounded. Shock's probably what killed Brig. Gen. Hughes, but I'll never know about that. All I knew was, I had to keep going.

And it was as I was standing up (again, swearing and groaning the whole time) that I saw it. Smoke, the kind filling the air that only a freshly started fire could do. And it was right over where the Fuhrer's mansion was.

_Aw crap._

How I managed to get there in the time period of five minutes still amazes me, but before I knew it, I was at the mansion, which at this point was fully aflame. One look around told me I was too late. The Fuhrer was dead, that was given, and so was his family- his son killed by his own hands. A little ways over, I saw the dead, mechanized body of Robo-Archer, bullet holes pocketing his back and I gave the fleshy head a strong kick (with my good leg.).

But the real tough part was seeing Lt. Hawkeye, arm bleeding from a bullet, kneeling and screaming over the bleeding, unconscious Flame Alchemist Brigadier General Roy Mustang. Saber scars aligned his body, but the thing that had taken him out was a bullet hole to the face, taking out his left eye.

The Lt. told me she had ran into Robo-Archer while being escorted to HQ and the robotic Col. shot her with a handgun. She saw that he had been driving our car and presumed the worst for me. Later, she found him, same gun posed, and she immediately fired seven slugs into his back and un-metalized arm, finally putting the bitch to rest.

But even in death, he still mocked me. For as I kneeled next to his Godforsaken body, I found the handgun and examined it. Every blood vessel in my body just froze up right then.

_It was mine._

Oh, come _on_! There's just no freaking way in _hell_ my luck is _this_ bad! Furiously, I threw the gun away. I never knew what happened to it after that.

Firemen, police, ambulances, and soldiers began popping up everywhere. Leading them was Lieutenant General Grunman, the Fuhrer's second in command who also happened to be Lt. Hawkeye's grandfather. Right then, I knew we were safe. After that, my memories are a blur. All I can remember are the docs coming over, some dragging the unconscious Brig. Gen. away, Lt. Hawkeye screaming and wanting to go with him, fighting against the docs that were checking her wound, soldiers picking up the bodies, the world suddenly spinning around, making me dizzy and-

I guess I passed out right then, because the next thing I remembered was waking up and the doc telling me what I had thought to be an April Fools joke- I was being discharged, going home. My leg's about 85 percent healed, and the chief doc, bastard that he is, tells me I'll keep it, though I'll have a bit of a limp for a while due to some nerve tissue getting torn up.

As long as I keep it, I don't care if I'll be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life.

… Well, OK, I need to run at _some_ point.

All around are guys coming in from the North, some stable, others goners. I keep asking about my squad mates, but either they don't know… or they aren't telling me.

I hope I hear from them soon.

-----

Just a few notes first:

I always wondered how, if the grenade wounded Archer with the MG out, why it wasn't stuck when he picked his head up but in the next episode, it looked like it was jammed there.

So, I filled in the blanks, including how he got the car and how he got the gun.

And… that's it, I think.

Review please.


	40. Entry 40

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military Private

For God's sakes, man! I don't own FullMetal!

From here on in, everything gets weepy and depressy.

Enjoy… or maybe not.

-----

Entry 40:

I'm not in the best of moods right now.

I just found out something that's gonna stay with me the rest of my life.

It all started this morning. I was just lying in my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I was counting the little dots- when you've spent four days in here, _anything_ sounds enjoyable. I was probably at dot four hundred fifty one when-

"Hey, Scotty."

The voice snapped me out of my boredom. I looked up to see who my visitor was, and was both amazed and appalled by the sight.

"Regazzi." My little buddy stood before me. He looked like he had gotten creamed by a semi; his arm was all wrapped up in a sling, and there were also bandages covering the top of his head. He looked at me with these really bloodshot eyes, but it was Regazzi, my friend, and I was damn glad to see him.

I asked what had happened. He told me the last day of the attack, he'd taken grenade shrapnel. Docs said it wasn't as bad as it looked.

"Glad you're alright," I said, "but where are the others? Are they good too?"

And there, I swear to God, I'd never forget what happened next; Regazzi, one of the toughest sons of bitches I would ever know, started crying. Not uncontrollably, but enough to freak me out.

And right then, I knew it was bad.

"Were… any of the guys killed?" I asked.

He nodded. And then he told me.

Castillo had been killed by a sniper three days into the battle. He had just lead a battered platoon in defending one of the more heavily bombarded sectors. When the enemy retreated, he stood up, then turned to the others for a grin and to shout new orders when there was a "plock" sound and he grunted, his eyes went wide, and he looked down at his chest, which had a pool of blood forming on it, then looked up again, outstretched his arms, signaling for help, and finally collapsed face first into the ground. He was dead before the docs even heard the cry for a medic.

It was just a damn shame for him, who had made it out of all those battles without a scratch, to be killed three days in by a random bullet.

Regazzi said he had been right next to Squeaker when he bought it. They were out on patrol at night, to try and locate an enemy machine gun that was giving them all grief, when a mortar shell landed near-by and Squeaker took some shrapnel to his eyes. Not able to see anything, and in terrible pain, he charged right into the MG's line of fire and… well, you can imagine the rest.

I had him pause for a second, just so I could take it all in. How could this be? How could these guys, who I had been through so much with, be _dead_?

"What about Shadow?" I asked finally. If _anyone_ could make it out, it would be him.

But Regazzi actually started the tears a little harder. Taking a deep breath, he then delved into what he called "The Mad Story of Shadow."

It was the day after Castillo bought it that they all noticed the change. He was a lot more withdrawn, barely talking to anyone. Sometimes he'd disappear, go off on these little walks for hours. No one knew where he went, and no one tried to follow him. Later in the week, it got even worse. Shadow was curled in a ball, rocking back and forth, still not saying a word. Regazzi had tried to talk with him, but he got very limited answers.

It was weird. Not the Shadow I had come to know these last several months. That part of him seemed dead as a doornail.

Apparently, he had had enough- too long in the army, probably. Too many battles, too much destruction. Too many watching his friends getting killed or maimed. Whatever the reason, it drove Shadow only deeper insane. I think it was Castillo's death that finally sent him over the edge. With him gone, Shadow was now the only Ishbal veteran left in the squad.

When the first of the tanks came in and the first fierce battle against them broke out- lead by our Lt. Havoc, by the way, opening up with an MG like that- Shadow finally just lost it. While everyone was taking cover in the trench, he stood up and screamed for them to take him. He fired a few pistol rounds at them and hollered and cried at the top of his lungs for them to take him, for them to kill him, make it stop.

How the tanks never hit him, no one will ever know, but they didn't. They began falling back, leaving all of us staring at our buddy. Right then, it was apparent that the Shadow we knew was gone for good. His eyes were pure red- he hadn't slept in days, maybe even _weeks_- and he was all dirty. He just looked at all of us, then broke down sobbing, grabbed his rifle, and stomped off.

But that's not where the story ends. Later, Shadow marched off into the woods, grabbed a grenade, held it in both hands, pulled the pin… and blew both his arms off.

No one blamed him.

I sat back in the bed. It was all just too much. Regazzi told me that they had shipped Shadow to the clinic in South HQ and that was the last anyone ever heard of him. No one even knew if he was _alive_.

But there was still something… one more question I needed to ask.

"And… Smokey?"

Regazzi hesitated. I could tell he didn't really want to tell me. I gave him a glare that told him it was both an order and a threat for him to do so. He took another deep breath.

"It was just after the last tank battle," he was already falling apart telling me, "He stood up… and jeered them, telling them to go home and all that… He looked at us, and said, 'I'm going home, boys… ain't no damn rebel gonna kill me.'… And apparently, one of the knocked-out tanks… the turret was still working and someone was still alive in there… none of us noticed it was moving until it fired, and… and…"

I nodded for him to go on. Right then, he finally let it all out.

"The shell hit him. White… blinding light, freaking defining blast and by the time we all looked up, Smokey… he was gone, man… just bits and pieces, raining down… that's all that was left…"

Now I started crying. I suddenly felt a lot weaker and fell backwards, just staring at him in disbelief.

"We searched around, but…" he held something out, "This was the biggest piece we could find."

It was Smokey's hat. I grabbed it and clutched it fiercely in my hand, tears streaming down my face. Regazzi was gone. He was crying hard.

"Jesus, I'm sorry, man," he told me, "God, I wish I was bringing you better news then this, but…" he gulped, "I'm going home… on leave… and I heard you were being discharged, so… I figured you'd just wanna get it from me before I left."

Someone called his name from the entrance of the ward. Regazzi looked down at them, then back at me. Feebly, he stood straight and gave me the first salute I had ever gotten from him.

"Take care, Scotty," was the last thing he said to me, and then he left.

That was the last time I ever saw him.

How could this _happen_?

_Why_ did this happen?

-----

Only two episodes left.

Don't miss how Full Metal Journal ends. You'll love it.

Review please.


	41. Entry 41

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military Private

Jesus, people, I don't own FullMetal! What's with you guys? You'd think after forty chapters, you'd all get it by now.

Well, I'll finish this story tonight. So everyone enjoy.

-----

Entry 41:

Well, this is it. After today, the figure known as Sergeant Scott Rodyle will cease to exist, and Scotty Rodyle the civilian will return from the grave. I'm going home today. After today, all I'll have are memories.

Good and bad. But more bad ones.

I wish I could say the situation's gotten better since I heard what happened to my squad, but there's been just as bad news: Ed's gone missing. He went underground to finally take care of the remaining homunculi and he never came back out. Looking back, we were probably the last people to see him before he disappeared.

That makes it so much worse to bear.

There has been one bit of good news: Al's back in his original body. He's the same age he was when the accident occurred, and as such, has no recollection of the past few years as an armored man. He's on his way back home now- probably to live with Granny Rockbell.

There have been a lot of rumors going around about that night it all ended. Some thought the Fuhrer killed his son, while others thought the Brig. Gen. did. Another said that Lt. Hawkeye fired twelve shots at Robo-Archer. Actually, it was seven- I counted.

The biggest rumor is whether it was Lt. Hawkeye or Robo-Archer that shot Brig. Gen. Mustang. There are mixed views on it. Personally, I believe it wasn't Lt. Hawkeye. Although I hadn't witnessed it, I'm sure the only bullets she fired were into Robo-Archer's back.

Right before I was about to leave, I got two final visitors- Brig. Gen. Mustang and Lt. Hawkeye. The Brig. Gen. looked about fifty times older than last I had seen him, and with the eye-patch covering the hole in his face, he looked older still. But it was still the ole' Flame Alchemist. Lt. Hawkeye looked like an entirely different person- her hair was down, for the first time ever. I'm betting Regazzi had wished he's stayed around now.

"How's it going, Sergeant?" the Brig. Gen. asked me.

"Going good, sir. Thank you, sir."

No doubt about it- once you become a soldier, it stays with you the rest of your _life_.

He sat down at the edge of my bed and we just talked. I told him what I was gonna do when I got back home, and asked what was gonna happen to the country now. He told me that Parliament would govern over, with Lt. Gen. Grunman in control. Everything would be under control now- this peace might last several years.

I then asked about Ed. He said, with a sigh, that there was still no sign. Investigations Division was still searching, but the results weren't looking too good. I sighed- how would I explain this to the guys back home? More over, how would I explain this to the Rockbells?

Just one more thing on my to-do list.

"Can I ask you something now, Sergeant?" Brig. Gen. Mustang asked me. I nodded, kinda taken aback. His question, however, really shocked me:

"That book you're always writing in- what is it?"

I looked down at my journal, then at my side-table, pondering the question. It was weird- in the eight and a half months that I've been in the army, _no one_ had ever asked me what I did with it. _Smokey and Shadow_ never even asked what it was for. In the end, I just shrugged and told him that I recorded the stuff that went on, the daily events, the main ones, what my opinions on them were… just stuff.

"Are you a good writer?"

The truth, which I gave him, was no- I wasn't, and was only doing this thing because my family thought it would be cool. I told him that I pretty much hated the damn thing from day 1, but never complained about it, because, well, that's just the kind of guy I am.

And then, I don't know _where_ the hell it came from, but he asked me if I wouldn't mind taking one last order before I left. I agreed, being the idiot that I am, and listened to what it was:

"My last order to you, Rodyle, is to take this journal, and give it to the world- make it into a book that people would want to read. People need to know what we went through, what we did day after day to keep the peace- they need to know what kind of job we did. Do this for me. Do it for Ed. Do it for all of those guys. Will you?"

I once again had to pause and take that all in. I almost said no- it was my journal, my thoughts, and personally, if Lt. Hawkeye ever read it, it would be raining bullets at my house. But then I realized it wasn't a choice. Even if the Brig. Gen. hadn't have requested it, I probably would've done it. I realized that whatever happened after this for my life would depend on if this story- the Full Metal Journal, as I've called it, in memoriam of Ed- got out, and people knew what we went through- what we gained out of this experience, and, more importantly, lost.

So, I said, as usual, "Yes, sir."

They were taking me out now. Brig. Gen. Mustang stood up and gave me one final salute, which I heartedly returned. Then he smiled at me.

"Take care of yourself," he said, "You're a good man, Scotty. Good luck in the real world."

And that was the last time I ever saw him.

On the train home, finally back in civilian clothes, the truth that this hellish nightmare was indeed over for me, all the memories of all the things I did hit me in full force all at once. One thing that came back- the Equivalent Exchange. That alchemist- motto mumbo-jumbo that Shadow had told me about all that time ago. I realized right then that that phrase didn't just go with alchemy- all life depended on it. I had helped gain peace for the world at the cost of losing my best friends in it. If that isn't equality enough, then I should just end it all right here. But I won't. The nightmare's over. I can finally go home.

There's just one more event I need to write in here- as I'm sitting in the seat, a little boy walks up to me and just stares. I stare back. He looks at Smokey's hat- the one I intend to send to Smokey's parents just as soon as I can. I follow his gaze and realized he must think I'm a soldier.

Yet again, I'm right.

"Aw yoo a soljer, mista?" he asks me in a toddlers' voice. For the first time in days, I actually crack something of a smile.

"I was," I answer.

"Did yoo kill people?"

"No," I reply firmly, "That part is done with."

And then, he asks me something I'll never forget: "Were yoo a heewo?"

I pause, tears again forming in my eyes, but I still smile as I shake my head.

"No, I wasn't a hero," I tell him, "but the guys I served with- they were the heroes. Each and every one of them was a full-fledged hero. I served with a fine group of heroes."

And they were- and I had.

-----

Not over yet. Still one more chapter. I'll get it out soon.

One note, first:

My friends always argue over who shot Mustang, Hawkeye or Archer? I tell them all it was Archer; Hawkeye fired precisely seven shots. I counted. And thanks to the miracle that is TV recording, I was able to record the episode and pause it to count the bullet holes in Archer. There were seven- six in his back, one in his un-metal arm- the exact number that Hawkeye fired. So, unless one of the bullets went right through Robo-Boy and onto Mustang, Hawkeye couldn't have shot him. Therefore, Archer shot him.

That's just from a logical stand-point, but you all have your opinions, and to try and change your minds would be both useless and impossible. So, think what you want.

That last bit was inspired by the letter of Sgt. Mike Ranney of E Company, 506th PIR, 101st Airborne wrote about his firends in 1988. This letter is recorded in the now famous book and HBO miniseries, _Band of Brothers._

Review please.


	42. Final Entry

Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military Private

OK, I'll say this one last time: I do not own FullMetal Alchemist.

Last chapter. Enjoy.

-----

Final Entry:

Well, I'm going home… but nothing will ever be the same again.

How can it? Smokey's dead. Castillo and Squeaker are dead. Shadow's probably dead, or in a hospital somewhere with his arms missing. Even if he _did_ live, he'll never be able to practice alchemy again.

How is it I'm still alive, when all the others are dead and gone? How can I continue to go on with life knowing I'll never see them ever again?

Why didn't _I_ die too? I _wish_ I had died too.

I'll have to live with this realization, that I'm alive and they're dead, for the rest of my life.

… In short, I'm going home.

And the best friends I've ever had in the world aren't.

………………………

I think that's all that needs to be said.

Don't you agree?

**End Journal**

-----

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my first ever completed story on this site.

Thank you all _so freaking much_ for reading and reviewing. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't thank the following:

**EquineAngel**, who was the first to review

**CorruptionGlare**

**Miss Woodford**

**words without** (formerly _shadowriter55_, you especially I want to thank for the reviews you made early on.)

**InuJoey**

**angelic lily**

**Steve Fett** (glad we worked out the issue we had. Good luck with your RE fic, dude! I'll be one of your first reviewers!)

**Kitty29**

**Tressa**

And last, but most _certainly_ not least, mucho thanks to:

**Alchemy202**- You especially kept this story alive. Thank you so much.

There are a few others, of course, but it was these people I just _had_ to thank.

Wanna see what happens next to Scotty Rodyle? Tune in for the sequel to Full Metal Journal: **The Shambala Chronicle: What Happened Next.**

As you can tell, it's movie based. It'll be Scott's version of events from before, during, and after the movie.

_Coming to January 2007._

Yeah, it'll have to be a while. I got other stuff to work on. But in the meantime, enjoy my other FullMetal fic, _Life in the Devil's Nest_. It's a Greed fic, and, according to everyone who reviews it, it's pretty good.

With all that said, make your final reviews- and thank you all again so much for reading this story.

Peace out.


End file.
